


You'll Find Me Here

by seibelsays



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), F/M, Found Family, I recognize canon but given that it's stupid canon I've elected to ignore it, Minor Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:47:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28517391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seibelsays/pseuds/seibelsays
Summary: When Thanos snapped half the universe out of existence, Bucky disappeared like so many others.When he came back, things weren't exactly how he remembered them.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Darcy Lewis
Comments: 293
Kudos: 384





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I went through all the fics I posted in 2020 and realized that not one of them was a soulmate fic. Clearly, that had to be remedied.
> 
> The goal is to post every Friday! If you've been a reader for awhile, you know that statement means nothing, because time is a construct and I post when I want. <3
> 
> Fair warning, my outline is 17 chapters, but who knows what the Bucky who lives in my head is going to do at this point.
> 
> And if you want some mood music, the playlist I've been using while writing is [available here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5Rn6wyTpqvK0Ku4T2yf4AS?si=Ofy31bI7T7OWFwX2_NrL3g).

_“Steve?”_

As Steve turned to face him, the world went fuzzy. Had he been hit and hadn’t noticed? He felt fine. Maybe a little unsteady on his feet, but give him a moment and that will sort itself out. The fuzziness in his vision increased and there was a ringing in his ears, as though he’d been standing too close to a canon when it fired. He looked down at his left hand as he felt the gun drop from his right and then the last thing he remembered was falling.

And falling.

And falling.

Nothing good ever came from falling. He would know. It was uncomfortable enough for any number of reasons he didn’t dare contemplate, but Bucky knew in his very bones that he wasn’t going to like whatever came next.

But the expected punch of hitting the ground never came, ratcheting his anxiety even further. With a sharp intake of breath, his vision cleared and the ringing stopped. When the vertigo ended, everything was still.

That couldn’t be good. Oh he _really_ wasn’t going to like whatever came next.

He looked around for Steve, but he was alone in the clearing. No Steve, no Sam, no Natasha, no anyone. His gun wasn’t anywhere to be found and his armor was gone. He was alone, unarmed, and dressed in - . He blinked down at himself. It certainly looked like his usual daily attire, while minding his goats, but it was clean and looked new or at least well mended. While he was pretty fastidious about doing his laundry - 70 years in more or less the same uniform, preceded by a few years of rarely being able to change his socks would do that - he was pretty sure these clothes hadn’t been this clean since the day he got them. And his sewing wasn’t _that_ good - Becca had taught him to mend a tear a lifetime ago, but this was far beyond his skill. This was the work of a professional.

What the hell was going on?

He moved through the small clearing, heading for the treeline and the open plain beyond. If he could just get out from this bit of cover, maybe he could see where the others had gone, find out what the hell just happened. Possibilities rushed through his mind, but if he’d learned anything since coming to Wakanda, it was that even with his lifetime of experience he knew nothing. 

And that was just here on Earth. The last few hours had proved that he was wildly, _hilariously_ out of his depth in the universe. For all his love of science (and science fiction), there was still so much he didn’t know. He could put on a good front for Sam, but the truth was he knew nothing. 

Steve had somehow fared better, had more of a grasp on the workings of the universe. Or maybe it was a front and Steve was just as lost as Bucky felt at times. He couldn’t tell with Steve anymore and that bothered him most of all. He hadn’t been able to read Steve since he came out of cryo and it hurt.

He forced himself to focus, pushing thoughts of Steve and their fractured friendship aside as he moved quickly, silently, in case any of the aliens they’d been fighting were still around, looking for something to aim at. He didn’t even have his _knife_ for crying out loud. He wanted to scream.

He got to the treeline without incident and peered out. The land was...unscathed. How was that possible, those dog things had been tearing it all up just a minute ago before they’d moved the fight into the woods. Not to mention the damage the ships overhead had done. There were no trenches, no wreckage, no people - alive or dead. There wasn’t even a wisp of smoke. 

None of this made any sense.

He pushed down the feeling of dread and reviewed what he knew. The triggers HYDRA had planted in his head were gone. Shuri had made sure of it. This wasn’t a trick. It _could_ be a nightmare, but it all felt just a little too real for that - it didn’t have the sharp tang of his usual nightmares. Maybe it was all in his head? He’d never dissociated or had a flashback in the middle of a fight before, but there was a first time for everything, wasn’t there?

Not that he’d really been out looking for a lot of fights recently, but the fight always seemed to find him anyway. And let’s not forget that fighting _aliens_ was apparently a thing they did now. 

When did life get so weird?

He ground his teeth in frustration. Why would he imagine this? Even if he had somehow mentally retreated away from the fight, this eerie silence wasn’t any less stressful. In fact, this might be worse.

No. This was almost certainly real. He brushed the fingers of his right hand against the fabric of his pants. That was real and familiar, even if the pants were likely new and not the well worn ones he’d been using.

The snap of a twig made him turn suddenly.

“Easy there, soldier,” Natasha said, her customary smirk firmly in place. “I’m a friendly.”

Bucky released the breath he’d been holding. “Scared the hell out of me,” he muttered.

“Sorry,” she replied, easily. She didn’t look the least bit sorry.

“What the hell happened? Where is everyone?” he hesitated, then asked the question he most did not want to ask, because it was what he did. “Where’s the fight?”

Natasha’s features softened. “Moved.” She paused, then amended, “Changed. A lot has happened.”

Bucky swallowed hard. She was being too evasive, even for what he knew of her these days. “Am I dead?”

Natasha’s grin returned, full force. “Hold on to that question for awhile.”

He groaned internally and rubbed at his eyes. “Would you stop with the - and what the hell happened to your hair?” 

“Barnes,” Natasha said, a soft warning in her tone, “it’s been five years.”

“Five - what?”

She nodded. “Five years. Five really long years and at the end of it. Well. I’m not at the end of it.”

“You’re…” he shook his head. “So it’s a - what? Just tell me. What’s going on?”

“Put some of that science fiction reading you pretend you don’t do to good use and tell me.”

He sighed and looked down at his hands, not really willing to think about how she knew his reading habits. “Five years,” he muttered. “And you’re not at the end of it.” He rolled his shoulder, the one he’d felt twinge a little when he’d thrown off one of the aliens that had been coming after the talking raccoon. _The talking raccoon_ as if that were normal. “Five years,” he muttered again. Finally he looked back to Natasha. “I’m stuck in a time loop or something?”

“Not a bad guess, but no. That might have been more fun, if slightly more infuriating.”

Bucky was really tired of the riddles and mentally willed Natasha to just come out with it already. He had the brief thought that he had somehow gotten caught in one of the Black Widow’s webs. The Black Widow’s _last_ web, he realized suddenly. 

Her smile faltered infinitesimally. With their training, she might as well have shouted from a rooftop.

Oh. 

Oh no.

He looked away and hung his head. Finally, because he knew he had to, he asked with some trepidation, “So...what is it?”

Natasha’s eyes were a little sad and she moved to sit on the boulder nearby. She patted the space next to her, inviting him to join her. 

“We lost,” she said, simply. “Badly. Thanos did...well, Thanos did exactly what he said. Half of all life, wiped out.”

Bucky felt like he’d been punched in the gut. All that fight, all that effort, all that loss. For nothing. “And we were the half that didn’t make it.” 

Her smile was faint now, barely perceptible. “You were. I wasn’t.”

“Figures,” he muttered. That sounded just like his luck. “So...what are _you_ doing here, if you weren’t in the half that died? Where is here anyway?”

She looked around. “I don’t know - what do you see?”

“Don’t pull that shit with me,” he warned. 

“Allow the savior of the universe the dignity of amusing herself however she pleases.”

Bucky took a moment to let that statement sink in. He finally looked at her. Really looked. They may not have known one another very well, but there’s something when you fought someone the way they had. When you lived the way they had. There was an understanding there, even if they didn’t know one another very well, in the traditional sense.

For all her smiles and teasing, she wasn’t happy. But she wasn’t sad either. The look was familiar, even if it was one he’d never seen on her - or himself - before.

And that’s when it hit him. She was at peace. Or something close to it.

“You…”

“One life in exchange for everyone else? That’s an easy call.” She shrugged. “Finally wiped out all the red in my ledger anyway.”

He almost called her lucky. He was pretty sure she would have understood if he had. But there was something about the casual shrug of her shoulder that bothered him. He deflected, until he could figure it out. “Think you got another universe to save up your sleeve?” he asked instead. “Could probably use a bargain like that myself.”

“No,” she said. “But I might have something better.” She reached out and touched his collarbone. “Where you’re going, it’s…” She paused, staring at where her fingers brushed his shirt before looking up at him with a sincere smile. “It’s going to be better. If you let it.”

“And just where am I going?” he asked warily.

She winked. “You’ll see.” She grew serious once more. “If you really hate it, there’s a way out. But I don’t think you’ll need it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Natasha didn’t reply, just smiled that infuriating, enigmatic smile of hers. “Goodbye James.”

“Nat…” he whispered, as he leaned forward and felt the air rush around him as the world went fuzzy again.

He blinked and all was still once more. Sam stepped in front of him.

“Okay, so this is gonna sound crazy. But it’s five years later, we’re not dead anymore, and apparently Steve is about to take on Thanos’ entire army by himself.”

Bucky blinked a few more times trying desperately to process both everything that had just happened _and_ what Sam had just said. “Sam?” he whispered.

Sam’s determined scowl softened and he lowered his voice. “Yeah,” he comforted. “It’s me. We don’t have a lot of time. You ready to fight?”

He looked around. They were still in the clearing, just near the trees. His armor was back, his gun in his hand, his knife in the sheath on his belt. 

There was no sign of Natasha.

He was so very, very tired.

He pushed the fatigue away and took a deep breath to steady himself as he reached to tie back his hair. “What kind of trouble is Steve into now?” He wondered how many times in his too-long life he’d asked a variation of that exact question.

“Man, I don’t even know anymore. We need to put a bell on him or something.” Sam shook his head and cracked a smile. “Come on, I think I’ve convinced the wizard guy to help me make a joke. We’ll make a grand entrance, save Steve, kick some alien ass, and then I’m going to take the world’s longest nap. It’s gonna be great.”


	2. Chapter 2

Bucky slowly trudged back towards his house, yanking at the armor uncomfortably clinging to him in the aftermath of the battle. He mentally thanked luck he didn’t believe in for wizard travel - being back in New York was great and all, but the Avengers compound had been completely destroyed by Thanos. At least back in Wakanda he could grab a shower.

God, he hoped his house was still standing. He probably should have checked on that before getting his hopes up about a shower and his bed. He’d had a really great bed. He missed that bed.

Step 1: Shower. Step 2: Bed. He’d figure everything else out later.

At the crest of the hill, he stopped and peered out over the land. There it was, safe and sound, his little home. The fence was still intact, and a few goats still roamed freely. He felt a small smile tug at his lips. Even if they weren’t the goats he’d been raising, it was nice to see a few of the furry guys still hanging around. He’d grown rather fond of them during his time here. Who would have thought, a nice Brooklyn boy like him, learning to love goat farming. 

His smile faded. He hadn’t been a nice Brooklyn boy in a very long time. 

One grey goat approached him from the side and nudged his hand, distracting him from such thoughts.

“Hiya pal,” he murmured, looking down at the goat. He gave the new arrival a little pat on the head and received another nudge in return.

That was...familiar.

“Oh,” he breathed, realizing. This wasn’t a new arrival. This was...this was the goat he’d named for Sam. Five years ago, when he was a tiny baby goat. A tiny baby goat that followed the goat named for Steve, always imitating the older goat, just a little slower. There was a twist in his gut as he recognized the feeling - of opening his eyes and seeing evidence of the world moving on without him. It was far too familiar.

He closed his eyes and breathed, concentrating on the feel of Sam the Goat’s fur under his hand, the smell of the grass, the sound of the birds singing. It took a few minutes, but when his gut stopped churning he finally opened his eyes again. He gave the goat another affectionate pat, narrowing avoiding another headbutt from the goat. He twisted out of the way with a chuckle, then made his way slowly down the hill, trying not to further strain his muscles or exert any unnecessary energy. He supposed, if he _had_ to, he could have picked up and run or fought off an attacker still. He was built to be a nearly unstoppable machine, after all. 

The hard place, built to counter the rock that was Captain America. Or something like that. The Fist of HYDRA, they’d called him once. The Winter Soldier.

The White Wolf, they called him now. Or they had. The only name he really knew for sure was _Bucky_.

He pushed those thoughts away. He could do all those things, if he had to. But _god_ did he really not want to. He was 101 - no, scratch that. He was _106 years old_ now. He could slow down a little if he wanted to. He felt he’d earned it.

He made it down the small hill without incident and opened his door, hesitantly. It _had_ been five years, after all. It would be his luck that someone else had moved in here during that time, and now he could add yet another charge of breaking and entering to his long list of offenses. He braced himself, preparing to duck a knife or dodge a punch thrown his way. Nothing happened as he opened the door and he breathed a small sigh of relief. Looking around, it appeared as though the place was exactly as he’d left it five years earlier when he’d rushed out the door to meet Steve’s flight on their way to take on Thanos’ army. There was a coating of dust over everything, and he was _seriously_ not looking forward to opening anything in the kitchen, but it was still good to be home. 

Well. Home, as much as anything was these days.

The thought of home made him pause. From what he’d been able to gather from everyone’s exhausted mumblings after the battle, he’d _died_ five years ago. It wasn’t the first time, so that particular thought didn’t bother him as much as it did some of the others. No, the thought that was giving him pause was the vision he’d had while he’d been...dusted? Away? Indisposed? He grinned a little to himself at his macabre humor. 

He dropped his jacket to the floor, mentally adding it to the list of things he’d clean up after a shower and a nice, long nap. 

“I’ll clean all my weapons _later,_ please stop yelling at me,” he muttered to the ghost of Natasha, who was already chastising him in his head. He hoped that wasn’t going to be a thing now. One, because he didn’t have any intention of seriously needing most of his arsenal all that often and two, he _really_ didn’t need another ghost taking up space in his head. He was at full occupancy, thank you very much. No vacancies.

And if the thought of Natasha only brought him right back to the strange dream he’d had of her while he was most recently dead, well. He was keeping all of that to himself for now.

Just like the contents of the dream itself. He hadn’t heard anyone else mention having strange dreams while they were dead. Either no one was talking, or something had happened to Bucky that hadn’t happened to the others.

And wasn’t that a cheerful thought.

The bathroom lit up as he entered and he made quick work of getting the shower going, determined to let the water run for a little bit before hopping in. Advanced tech of Wakanda or not, no good could come from pipes that had been left to sit for five years, and he was happy to let the water flow for a minute or two.

He slowly pulled off the shirt he’d had on under the jacket, wincing a little as the fabric stuck to him. A crack echoed through the bathroom as he tilted his head, working out the kinks that were starting to build up after so much exertion. He rubbed his eyes then glanced at himself in the mirror. 

What.

What the.

He jolted forward, getting closer, then looked down at his chest, in case the mirror was somehow playing tricks on him.

There was a tattoo on his chest, right there on his collarbone. A tattoo that had never been there before. He never had a tattoo - if he’d had one before the war, HYDRA would have scrubbed it from his skin. After HYDRA, he wouldn't have gotten one - too easy to identify for one, and the bastardized version of the serum pumping through his veins would have made it impossible for another. So what the hell are these words scrawled across his collarbone?

_I am never letting you go._

His blood ran cold at the ominous words. He tentatively ran a finger across the marks, as though maybe just by touching them they would smear and go away. But no, they remained as dark and steadfast as they had been a moment ago.

“What the hell,” he muttered, then sighed and hung his head. 

That was it. That was the limit. He couldn’t take anything else today. He was going to shower, he was going to _sleep_ , then he was going to clean both his weapons and his house. Then, and only then, would he put any energy into dealing with this new nonsense that presented itself.

Yes, that was the answer. Shower. Sleep. Everything would make more sense in the morning.

* * *

In the morning, Bucky noted with some dismay that his kitchen hadn’t magically cleaned itself. He decided it was a problem for later and headed outside. He could wander into town and get some breakfast there. And if he happened to overhear any chatter regarding the mysterious appearance of new, ominous tattoos? Well, that would just be serendipity, wouldn’t it?

But first, coffee.

The hike to the market was quick, but enjoyable. The sun was shining and the sky a brilliant blue. There was an occasional shimmer from some bit of tech or another deployed in the sky overhead and he grinned. He loved Wakanda.

The atmosphere in the market was joyous. People roamed through the streets, greeting friends and family and strangers alike, hugging and smiling and crying happy tears as loved ones long parted were finally reunited. The sheer joy of it was palpable. It soared through the air on the back of the melody of the bells that were ringing in the streets. Even Bucky cracked a smile or two, despite himself. He wasn’t a very tactile person anymore, but for once, he didn’t feel the urge to shy away from friendly handshakes or a gentle touch on his shoulder. It felt good to be part of a community again, to reconnect with the world through a simple touch and a bright smile. A few kids ran past, almost tripping Bucky as they happily chatted about the fireworks that were scheduled for that night and Bucky caught himself wondering if this was what New York felt like at the end of the war. 

The thought dampened the infectious joy around him and he quickly ducked into the nearest cafe to distract himself. After a brief look at the menu, he placed an order and moved to the side to wait, watching the world move outside the cafe’s window. The crowd moved in a blur, faces and people barely registering for him. He enjoyed watching the movement, watching the shape of the crowd’s joy, without having to constantly fear that the next person to come around the corner was coming after him.

His eyes were drawn to the corner regardless and his heart nearly stopped at the sight of an absolute knockout rounding the corner. She was valiantly hiding tear-filled eyes behind her dark hair, but Bucky had excellent eyesight. Bucky was half out of his seat to follow her, to make sure she was alright when a voice called out to him.

“Hi Buck.”

Bucky spun around at the sound of his name. “Steve?”

Steve flushed, looking embarrassed for some unexplained reason. “Er - sorry.”

Bucky glanced back toward the street, but the woman was gone. He sighed a little internally and hoped she was alright, then turned back to Steve. “What’s going on? What are you doing here? I thought you’d have your hands full back in New York.”

Steve’s shrug was nonchalant, but Bucky wasn’t fooled. “All of our people are accounted for, they don’t need me for the cleanup. There’s already a thousand Starkbots on it anyway.”

“Uh huh,” Bucky agreed, his tone purposely flat. Steve was so full of shit. “And the rest of the world?”

Steve shrugged, and his posture was strangely defensive. “I can’t take a day off from saving the world to catch up with my best friend? It has been five years after all.”

Bucky was suddenly ashamed of his skepticism. Steve wasn’t the only one at fault for how things had been before Thanos descended out of the sky. The realization released a tension he’d been holding in his shoulders and Bucky vowed to do better this time. 

“You have breakfast yet?” Bucky asked.

Steve’s eyes lit up, then quickly shuttered, as though he were trying to hide his excitement. Bucky wondered at that, then dismissed it - Steve had been an overexcited puppy in a lot of ways after the Siberia mess. Maybe he was trying to reign himself back in so they didn’t have a repeat of some of those many arguments they’d had before Bucky put himself back into cryo. Bucky wasn’t going to let that happen this time, no matter what. This time, things were going to be better.

“Not yet,” Steve replied.

Bucky motioned for Steve to follow him back to the counter, where Bucky’s order had just been placed. “It’s on me. We’ll catch up.” He nudged Steve playfully in the ribs. “If you can spare the time on your precious day off,” he teased.

Steve let out a relieved-sounding laugh. “That sounds good. That sounds…” Steve’s voice trailed off and he gave Bucky an odd look. If Bucky didn’t know better, he’d almost call it wistful. “That sounds really good.”

Bucky studied his friend’s face for some clue as to how he was feeling. Maybe he _was_ wistful - Bucky had to keep reminding himself that it had been _five years_ for Steve. He couldn’t imagine the weight of that.

Okay, maybe he could imagine a little bit of it. Bucky’s heart broke, then he rearranged the pieces into a new resolve. This would be the last time they would have to do this. This would be the last time either of them had to go through anything like this. He would make sure of it.

He clapped Steve on the shoulder. “Try to keep the portion sizes to a semi-normal level, huh pal? I’m not made of money.”

Steve laughed again. “Whatever you say, B-” Steve stopped and cleared his throat, then continued with a smile. “Whatever you say.”


	3. Chapter 3

A knock at the door interrupted Bucky’s silent contemplation of his kitchen. A welcome reprieve, given that he had no idea how to tackle 5 years worth of rot in there. It could keep for another few minutes while he dealt with a visitor. Maybe they would have an idea how to clean out the mess.

“‘S open,” he called. Which, really, wasn’t a thing he - of all people - should do. Granted, he knew that he could most likely fend off any attacker and there was a tiny, reckless part of his brain that was still ambivalent to death some days. But this was Wakanda - he was as safe and secure here as he could be on this planet, in this lifetime. A little thing like a front door lock wasn’t going to cost him any sleep.

He had enough other ghosts in his head for that.

“Tell me Wakanda has a fancy kitchen cleaner that will eliminate 5 years of mess without me having to wear a biohazard suit,” Sam said, as he entered Bucky’s home.

“If they do, I don’t know about it,” Bucky sighed.

“Damn,” Sam muttered. “They should get on that.”

“I’ll ring up Shuri and tell her.” Actually, a visit to Shuri might be in order, anyway. The few hours of sleep Bucky had gotten hadn’t clarified the origins of Bucky’s new, surprise tattoo and he never found the words to ask Steve about it. He hated to bother Shuri with something like this though. If this were any kind of normal world, a tattoo could be explained by a night of heavy drinking and bad decisions.

Unfortunately, Bucky stopped living in a normal world sometime around 1943.

Then again - Shuri had only just returned herself. Surely, there were far more pressing issues clamoring for her attention. She’d hear him out, no question. She’d hear his story, mercilessly tease the hell out of him, and then supply him with whatever answer she had. But Shuri was an important and busy woman, who was desperately needed by the entire planet - possibly the entire universe. He shouldn’t bother her with something so trivial. 

So even if Shuri would _know_ , and the only cost would be a few minutes of gentle teasing at his expense, he’d leave Shuri out of it for now.

He could ask Steve. He probably _should_ have asked Steve at breakfast this morning. Steve had at least been a fully functioning being for the last five years. Even if he didn’t have an answer immediately, Steve would listen and would know how to help. Probably. He might also be an asshole about it, but in the way that two people who had so much shared life and love and blood only could. 

But Steve had seemed so thrilled to just talk to Bucky this morning, he hadn’t had the heart to bring up something that could maybe - possibly - be a problem, especially given the ominous nature of the words inked into his skin. And really, Steve had his hands full at the moment. This morning notwithstanding, the world was a mess and there was plenty of cleanup that Bucky had skipped out on to return home to Wakanda. Steve wouldn’t do that. Steve would stay and do whatever they needed him to do for however long they needed him to do it.

Bucky should really feel guilty about it. He should be there, helping his friend, instead of cleaning out his mess of a kitchen. He didn’t though - something he’d learned in the months before his temporary demise was that he needed to prioritize himself occasionally, so that’s what he was doing. And with the little bombshell that they’d discovered _time travel_ , he was pretty sure that his friend had a lot of thinking to do - none of which Bucky could help with.

So that eliminated Steve.

Damn, this whole death not taking business was getting old. 

“Let me know when you do,” Sam said, oblivious to Bucky’s inner turmoil over his unexpected ink. “And if they have any interest in studying the creatures that formed in my fridge, they’re welcome to them. I’ve named the big one Frank, but I’ll consider naming all the little ones after members of the royal family if they deal with removal for me.”

“I’m sure that will encourage them to get right on it.”

Sam settled onto Bucky’s sofa with a grin. “So. How are you doing?”

“With what?”

“Come on,” Sam conjoled, “Let me know what’s going on in that cyborg brain of yours. We just died for five years and came back. It’s okay to be a little thrown off. _I’m_ thrown off and am not afraid to admit it.”

“Not the first time I’ve died, Sam,” Bucky reminded him quietly. “It gets old after awhile.”

“Oh excuse me. I forgot I was talking to the champion zombie over here.”

Bucky chuckled darkly, the grim humor doing probably exactly what Sam intended it to do in bringing Bucky out of his head and into the present. The man had an irritating ability to do that to him.

He’d never admit it out loud, because Sam would never let him live it down, but Sam really was a good friend. Inasmuch as they were friends.

Actually.

Bucky gave up on the kitchen and sat down on the couch next to Sam with a soft sigh. “You...notice anything different? Since coming back?”

Sam’s brow furrowed in confusion. “It’s been five years - you might need to be more specific.”

“About yourself.”

“No,” Sam said slowly. “Why? Should I have? Have you?”

“Wow. And you accuse me of being paranoid.”

Sam glared at him and Bucky grinned briefly in response.

“I have a tattoo.”

Sam blinked. “Okay?”

“I never had one before.”

“Before...what, exactly?” Bucky turned to glare at him and Sam held up his hands. “I’m not trying to be cute, I just want to understand.”

“Before Thanos. I never had a tattoo before we fought Thanos. Never wanted one before the war, and HYDRA would have removed it anyway. Afterward, it would have been too distinctive - not that it really matters when you’re the only guy around with a metal arm, but it was just one more thing, you know?” Bucky reached for his collarbone and abscently scratched at the words there. “Then we come back, and I look in the mirror, and there it is.”

Sam frowned at him. “What’s the tattoo of?” he asked slowly.

Bucky shrugged. “Just some words.”

Sam froze. “Can I see?” he asked, his voice clearly very carefully neutral.

Bucky pulled at the collar of his shirt to expose his collarbone and the new words stamped across it.

Sam’s face settled into an even more of a carefully neutral mask. Bucky hadn’t known that was possible and it sent his anxiety spiking. He was right - the words _were_ ominous. 

“I thought you were born a blank,” Sam said.

Bucky blinked at him. Was he supposed to know what that meant? What was a blank?

His confusion must have shown on his face, because Sam hurried to continue. “I mean, it’s fine if you’re not - if you weren’t, I mean. Nothing wrong with blanks. I just don’t understand how you...well, how your life...went the way it did.”

Bucky snorted and let go of his shirt, letting it settle back into place. “If you find an answer to that one, do let me know.”

Sam’s brow creased in increasing concern. “James... _were_ you born a blank?”

What the hell was with this ‘James’ stuff? Had Sam hit his head or something? He shook off the thought - he had more pressing questions, and James was technically his name, so he’d deal with that later.

“Sam, I don’t have a single clue what you’re referring to with this ‘blank’ stuff.” Sam’s eyes widened in alarm. “Is this a future thing? It’s gotta be a future thing, I don’t remember-”

Sam shook his head. “It’s not a future thing, James.”

“And what’s with the sudden formality?”

“Formality? I don’t -” Sam shook his head again. “Look. James. Were you or weren’t you born a blank?”

“I don’t know what that means,” Bucky repeated slowly, emphasizing each word and hoping that this time it would sink in for Sam. “If this is a weird joke, I’m really not in the mood.”

“James...I know you and I have never really gotten along, especially after the whole reveal with Steve, and that we’re not friends-”

Wait. “We’re not?” 

“-and that this isn’t really a not-friends thing to discuss. It’s barely a...I know, back in the day, being a blank was taboo and yeah, it still is in a lot of ways. But I’m here and I’m ready to listen. Whatever it is.”

Panic welled up in Bucky’s chest but he pushed it down with practiced ease. Now wasn’t the time.

“Sam,” he said, his voice deceptively even. “I don’t have a single fucking clue what you’re talking about. Can we start at the beginning?”


	4. Chapter 4

“Show him,” Sam said.

Bucky hesitated as Steve looked expectantly between him and Sam. 

“Show me what?” Steve asked.

Bucky looked down and shook his head, suddenly unable to get the words out. It happened occasionally. Not nearly as much as it used to, but every once in a while, when he was anxious or stressed, it happened. He hated it. He was working on it, but he hated it.

Sam took pity and spoke up. “What do you remember about James’ soulmark?”

Steve practically growled. “It’s bullshit! Absolute bullshit.”

Bucky frowned at him, Steve’s vehement response snapping him out of his hangups. “What is?”

“Society’s got no right to treat you as anything less just because you’re blank. The lack of a soulmate does not mean lack of _worth_ and you know that I’ve always believed that! Hell, it’s not a belief, it’s the goddamned truth.” Steve ranted. Sam looked on impassively, like he’d heard this rant a thousand times before. Bucky recognized the feeling, even if this particular rant was wholly new to him.

“It’s why I wanted to join the army!” Steve continued. At the combined power of both Bucky and Sam’s flat expressions, Steve amended. “Part of why I wanted to join the army.”

“Nazi-punching was a big part of it,” Bucky replied slowly, still unsure where this was going.

“Of course! But I had an unclaimed soulmark, so I wasn’t eligible for the draft and it was one more strike against me when I tried to enlist.” Steve shook his head. “I didn’t know how badly _that_ would backfire on me. They used my mark as _propaganda_.” Steve was practically growling now. 

“We know, Steve,” Sam said gently.

“No we don’t,” Bucky hissed at Sam.

Steve ignored them both, his voice twisting into an ugly mocking tone. “Captain America is willing to risk his life and risk dooming his as-yet-unfound soulmate to a life alone forever - you can do your part and buy a war bond!”

This conversation wasn’t clearing anything up and the pain in Steve’s voice was almost more than Bucky could bear on top of everything else. “Guys,” he said, cutting off any additional ranting Steve may have still had in him, “I have no idea what you’re talking about. What is a soulmark?”

Steve stared at him and Bucky did his best not to flinch under his friend’s gaze. It was something akin to the ‘Captain America is disappointed in you’ look that Bucky had always been immune to - but there was just something in Steve’s eyes that suggested there was something about Bucky that just wasn’t measuring up.

He’d thought he’d been doing okay. Shuri had done an amazing job, removing all of his HYDRA triggers and fixing some of the damamge that 70 of torture and captivity and brainwashing had done. He’d been making great progress, according to his doctors. He’d worked hard in therapy, learning how to be a person again, learning to trust his own mind. He’d gotten tiny pieces of himself back, while simultaneously grieving the things he’d lost and learning to accept what he had now. 

And then aliens fell out of the sky and blew everything to hell.

Maybe he hadn’t been doing as well as he’d thought. Maybe he _had_ actually hallucinated on the battlefield that day. Maybe that’s why things didn’t make sense now.

“Bu -” Steve stopped briefly, then started again. “What do you mean ‘what’s a soulmark?’”

“I mean, I don’t know what _you_ mean when you talk about one.” Bucky tried to keep his frustration out of his voice, he really did. The hurt in Steve’s eyes told him he’d failed.

Sam stepped forward and rolled up his sleeve. “Soulmark,” he said, pointing to the words tattooed on his wrist. “The first words your soulmate will ever say to you.”

Bucky looked down. _On your left_ was etched into Sam’s skin in pale silver.

Steve rolled up his own sleeve, revealing a silver tattoo of his own. _Uh huh. On my left. Got it._

Bucky looked between the two men, then suddenly realization dawned. “This is a weird couples thing.” Steve and Sam looked at each other bewildered. “I mean, it’s great that you guys are still going strong, the whole Sam being technically dead for 5 years didn’t dampen that at all for you. Matching tattoos are a great way to commemorate.” He slid out of his seat and gave them the most encouraging grin he could muster, but it was more bitter than anything else. “Thanks for including me in your life choices.” He turned to leave, determined to make new friends in this second chance at his second chance. Maybe the racoon was still around.

“It’s not a weird couples thing,” Sam said.

“It’s kind of a weird couples thing,” Steve muttered. Bucky waved goodbye as he reached the door, determined to ignore them both. He had been questioning his sanity for this.

“It’s a fact, James,” Sam continued, “Soulmates are real. They are proven science and that’s something that you’re going to have to deal with now that you’ve got words of your own.”

“Wait,” Steve said, and there was just enough alarm in his voice to make Bucky turn back. “You have words?”

“That’s what we’ve been trying to tell you,” Sam said, clearly at the end of his patience. “Before you went off on your rant.”

“You have words now?” Steve asked again, ignoring Sam. “How?”

Bucky stared at Steve, really considering him, undecided if he believed either Steve or Sam about all this. It was just too much to believe. Things would be easier if they were just spinning some sort of elaborate story. 

Steve looked back at him, his lower lip trembling with the effort of not spouting whatever questions he had bubbling up in that brain of his. 

Bucky cursed the day he’d ever laid eyes on Steve and his stupid face and decided he could play along. For now.

“I have no idea if they’re - I don’t know, words or whatever. A soulmark?” Bucky shrugged. “After we got back, after the battle, I found a tattoo I didn’t have before.”

“Can...Can I see it?” Steve asked, his voice quiet, almost as though he expected Bucky to yell at him just for asking.

“Sure.” Bucky tugged at the neck of his shirt, revealing the mark on his collarbone. 

Steve stepped closer and let out a short, sharp breath as he examined the tattoo.

_I am never letting you go._

“You have words,” he whispered.

“Little ominous, if you ask me,” Bucky muttered. “Especially given my history.” Even if he did believe the whole soulmate thing they were trying to sell him - which he did not, no matter how much it appealed to his inner romantic - it would be his luck that the person who uttered those words would be trying to drag him back to HYDRA. What else could they mean? If that was his future, he’d much rather just...not.

Steve frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“So it’s true, then?” Sam asked. “James was a blank before Thanos?”

“Yeah,” Steve replied. “No words. No soulmate.”

“And according to the society you grew up in, no future,” Sam sighed.

“That’s bullshit, Sam, and you know it,” Steve snapped.

Sam raised his hands in surrender and Bucky was suddenly very tired again.

“Guys, if this is a joke, it’s not a good one,” he said. “I’d really rather we just-”

“I could say the same to you,” Steve interrupted. He nodded at Bucky’s chest. “What would Darcy say if she saw that?”

Bucky frowned. “Who?”

Steve’s eyes widened. 

“Okay,” Sam said. “Let’s take this one step at a time. What do we know?”

Bucky looked at Sam, half pleading. “Sam, is this a joke?”

“No.”

“Am I losing my mind?”

Sam’s eyes softened and he shook his head. “No. Nothing like that. But something clearly _did_ happen, so let’s lay out what we know and go from there?”

“Okay,” Steve said, as he straightened up with a new resolve. “First, you’ve been a blank your whole life.”

“And now you’re not,” Sam added.

“I have no memory of anything regarding soulmates or soulmarks or being blank or what any of that means,” Bucky said, his voice rising just a little as the panic crept in.

Steve reached out and squeezed his shoulder, his thumb just brushing the words hidden under Bucky’s shirt. “We’ll figure this out, James.”

That was the final bit that broke him. “You too?” Bucky exclaimed, shrugging Steve off. “First Sam goes all formal on me, now you? When _in my life_ have I ever wanted to be called James?” He pointed to Sam. “You’re the one who told me to correct people if they called me a name I didn’t prefer, recommended it as part of my recovery. Told me it was important to emphasize that I was _Bucky_.”

“And you asked us to call you James,” Sam replied. “Rather emphatically at times, in fact.”

“Recovery?” Steve asked, his eyes wide and tone startled. “From what?”

Bucky practically exploded with frustration. “From HYDRA! From 70 years of captivity! From being torn apart and brainwashed into killing for them!”

Steve and Sam wore matching expressions of horror. 

Bucky was practically hyperventilating now. “Is none of this ringing a bell for you two? I tried to kill you both! Multiple times!”

“Something is very, very wrong here,” Steve whispered. 

Bucky collapsed back into the chair and hid his face in his hands. Steve reached out and squeezed his shoulder again.

“We will figure this out,” he swore. 

“It’s not in your head,” Sam said. “I can promise you that.”

“And you have a mark,” Steve agreed. “That’s a physical change that Sam and I can both see and confirm. So there’s something else going on here.”

Sam leaned against the desk. “Time travel, maybe? That’s a thing now. Apparently. Since you get to have all the fun.”

Steve shot Sam a look. “Why would time travel give him words though?”

Sam shrugged. “Different time line maybe? I don’t know, I’m just brainstorming.”

“Why wouldn’t he remember the concept of soulmates? That’s what I don’t get.” Steve shook his head and looked to Bucky. “What do you think? What are we missing?”

Bucky stared down at his hands, flexing them slowly, as he watched the metal shimmer in the office lights. An idea came to him - something Natasha said. He was going _somewhere_ better. 

“A different universe,” he said slowly as the pieces of the idea all slotted into place. He looked up at Steve. “That’s why I don’t know anything about soulmates. We don’t have them where I came from. And when I got here where soulmates do exist...I got words.”

Steve and Sam were both quiet, probably contemplating the implications of Bucky’s theory.

“It fits,” Bucky continued, desperate to break the silence, and convincing himself of his own theory the longer he spoke. “It’s why I don’t know anything about soulmates or soulmarks, it’s why apparently the history I remember is different from what you know. Hell, it’s why I go by a different name.”

“I don’t know,” Steve said slowly.

Bucky smiled at him, sadly. “Would it really be any stranger than anything else we’ve seen?”

Steve still looked unsure, but nodded. Bucky felt like his friend’s eyes were going to bore right through him. 

“We can run it by the science-types,” Sam said. “See what they think. But it’s a solid enough theory for now.”

Bucky nodded, then looked back at his hands, unable to take Steve’s sad eyes any longer. 

“Speaking of,” Sam said as someone new entered the office.

Bucky looked up and found the brunette from the market standing in the doorway. The tear streaks were long gone from her face, but her expression was the same mix of longing and sadness and anger and hope that he’d seen before. He rose to his feet, and tried to say something - anything - but the words caught in his throat. 

Suddenly, she launched herself at him, propelling herself into the room and into his arms, wrapping him up in the biggest, tightest hug he’d had in a very long time. History’s most perfect hug, if anyone was asking him, and he tightened his embrace, pulling her closer. 

“ _ **I am never letting you go**_ ,” she whispered. 

Bucky inhaled sharply as the now familiar words registered, bringing back Sam’s explanation of a soulmark. This woman, currently one half of the universe’s most perfect hug, had just said his words. She was his soulmate.

The words were suddenly ominous in an entirely new way.

“ _ **If you’re my soulmate, why would I ever let you go?**_ ” he whispered back, new fears and worries swirling through him. That this wasn’t going to be the happy ending he was sure most people in this universe envisioned when they found their soulmate. That this was actually yet another cruel joke fate was playing on him and soon he would wake up or move on to the afterlife or something else infinitely more probable than him actually having - and finding - a soulmate. That this was going to go as badly as possible and he would lose her. He didn’t even know her and he was already fearing the worst. She stilled in his arms briefly before pulling away from him, her bright eyes shining and her lips parted in shock.

And then she reeled back and punched him in the face.


	5. Chapter 5

Bucky blinked up at the ceiling a few times and tried to piece together exactly where things had gone so wrong. Being born immediately came to mind, and it had only gone downhill from there.

“Darcy!” Steve called. Bucky heard footsteps rush out of the room and assumed he was safe from further assault for the moment. He slowly sat up. He gingerly touched his face where she’d hit him and winced. That was definitely going to bruise. She threw an excellent punch.

“That went well,” Sam said mildly.

Bucky glared at him and only received a grin in return. He scowled back, but had to wonder how Sam ever thought they weren’t friends. Only a true friend could be that much an asshole after someone was on the receiving end of a punch.

"What did you say to her?" Steve asked.

Bucky sighed and dragged himself back to his feet. "Not sure," he muttered.

Sam's eyes narrowed. "Let me see your mark."

Steve snapped to look at Sam. "You don't think -"

"We'll find out," Sam said. "Let's see it."

It took a moment before Bucky realized that by “mark,” Sam meant his new tattoo. Bucky tugged at his collar, moving it aside. He stretched awkwardly to try to see the mark for himself, but had trouble getting a good angle. It's not like he had any idea what Sam was looking for anyway, but still. He wanted to know.

"No way," Steve breathed. "Shit."

"What?" Bucky felt an irrational panic rise in his chest. Had something happened to the mark? Was it growing or something? He’d only had it for a little while, but he still felt oddly protective over it. Or maybe it wasn’t about the mark at all. Had she stabbed him and he hadn't noticed? He would be embarrassed to admit that it wouldn't have been the first time, but it had been under HYDRA and it's not like he had really been in any state to register that sort of thing when they didn't want him to, so he figured he could get a pass.

Sam opened the camera app on his phone and flipped the screen to the front facing camera, then handed it to Bucky. "Take a look."

Bucky held up the phone so he could use the camera like a mirror. After a moment of fidgeting, he got the angle and the brightness right so he could see the tattoo properly.

The words that had been dark and clear this morning were now a pale silver. Just like the pale silver marks Steve and Sam wore.

Oh no.

"Does this mean what I think it means?" Bucky asked, his voice trembling as he handed the phone back to Sam.

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

"How is that even possible?" Steve said. "You two were -"

"Not me," Bucky reminded him. "I've never met her."

Steve sighed. "Right."

Bucky shifted a little, suddenly uncomfortable. "But...the other me...James. He and...I didn't catch her name?"

Sam nodded. "Darcy. Yeah. James and Darcy were together at one point. Broke up just before Thanos showed up."

"Shit," Bucky muttered. "So again - how is that even possible?"

Steve looked helpless. "Bucky - the other Bucky - James...he didn't really..."

"He didn't what?" Bucky asked. "I'm a little desperate here, if there's something that might help us figure out what the hell is going on...And shit, someone’s gotta go get Darcy, explain all this to her.” That someone should probably be him, but he wasn’t entirely sure she’d even speak to him at this point. He let it go for the moment and resolved to go find this Darcy - and soon.

Steve didn't respond, so Sam picked up the story. "James never really found a place he fit."

"What does that mean?" Bucky asked, not understanding what Sam and Steve were so carefully trying to avoid saying and wishing that they would just spit it out already.

"Being blank? It's no picnic."

"Okay. So?"

"What did you mean earlier?" Steve asked quietly. He had sunk into a chair and was avoiding looking either at Bucky or Sam. "You mentioned something about 70 years of captivity and HYDRA."

The question annoyed him. He didn't see how it was relevant, but he did his best to set aside his annoyance and hoped that there was a reason Steve asked. "Yeah. You, me, and the others back in the war. We went after Zola."

Steve nodded. "The train."

"Yeah. I fell off that train. And no one came to look for me."

Steve finally looked up at him, horror in his eyes. "You don't mean -"

"I laid bleeding in the snow for two days before HYDRA found me. It's how I got this," he said, gesturing at the arm. "Well, not this exact model, that came later. But they found me, experimented on me. Brainwashing, torture. You know the drill. They kept me in cryofreeze between missions. I was their puppet for 70 years." He didn't go into any more detail, not wanting to see the grief that haunted his Steve reflected on _this_ Steve's face. "Why? Somethin' different happen here?"

"Yes."

Bucky nodded. "Better or worse?"

Steve stared at his hands. "I don't know how he would have classified it. But relatively speaking, I'd say better." He drew in a deep breath. "James was a blank. But just before the mission to take Zola's train, there was a false positive. An informant for the SSR. It was a whole mess. James stayed behind to clean it up rather than run away on another mission. He didn’t have to, someone would have done it, but...Anyway, Zola was killed in the assault on the train. A few weeks later, we hunted down the Red Skull. Stowed away on his plane. James was with me when we went into the ice. That's how he lost his arm."

"Oh." Steve was right - relatively speaking, that was an easier route to the future. James was a lucky bastard in Bucky's opinion. For a number of reasons.

"When we woke up and got a handle on what had happened, I had hoped that he'd have an easier time of it in the future - that maybe things had changed enough that being blank didn't mean what it had. And it doesn't - usually. He seemed to be adapting well at first." Steve looked up at him. "You like science fiction too?"

Bucky stifled a laugh. "Apparently, it’s no secret that I am a giant nerd in any universe."

Steve cracked a smile. "Yeah. He was doing okay. In some ways, he took to the 21st century like he was born for it. And then..."

When Steve didn't continue, Bucky looked at Sam, who just looked sad.

"It's not your fault, Steve," Sam said.

"What's not?" Bucky asked. He hated to pry, but felt like he needed to know. Steve only shook his head.

"Things between James and Steve...fractured...when Steve and I met," Sam said. "It never got ugly, per se, but it wasn't good."

Bucky sat with that thought. He remembered that night at the bar, all those years ago. He'd been struggling, trying desperately to pretend that everything was fine, all while drowning in the constant fear of not knowing what had been done to him in that hellhole labor camp, trying not to jump at every sudden sound or movement. The whiskey not being enough to drown in. But he’d had Steve there and he had hoped that in time, things would get better. And then Peggy walked in and he may have made a joke about being invisible, but the feeling was absolutely crushing. He couldn't quite imagine living with a feeling like that his entire life - knowing that one day, just about everyone around him would find someone the universe had picked just for them. Knowing that he was invisible to the universe itself.

The pieces of what he was learning about James were all starting to fit together. He was unhappy, and angry at the universe, and it bled over into his relationships with everyone and everything. Steve wanted to help but didn’t know how. Sam had tried - was still trying, if the conversation they’d had at his house earlier was any indication. But nothing was breaking through.

"And Darcy?" he asked, finally. 

"Not sure, really," Sam said. "They were together for a while. Seemed to be going okay, even if Darcy had words and James didn't. It never seemed to bother Darcy."

"It bothered James," Steve said. "They fought about it constantly."

"James didn't want to get serious?" Bucky asked with a frown. 

Steve nodded. "Darcy had a soulmate,” he said, like that explained everything. At Bucky’s blank and somewhat exasperated look, he continued. “James just couldn’t stand the idea that she would eventually leave him for that soulmate. He never mustered the will to believe her when she said she wouldn’t."

"It's a hard thing," Sam said. "I couldn't imagine."

Bucky watched Steve carefully. The way he looked at Sam, Bucky got the impression that no matter how badly Steve wanted to understand James' point of view, he never quite managed it. He couldn't fathom a world without his soulmate, especially now that they'd finally met. Not after the rather extraordinary events that led him to Sam. Sam at least could admit that he couldn’t imagine it, but Steve? No. Steve would keep trying and would never admit that he didn’t understand.

What a mess. Bucky wondered if James was in his original universe. And if he was, how things were going. Was he happier? Would it be better for him to stay there? To take Bucky’s place?

Was that even a thought he wanted to entertain? 

He was getting ahead of himself. Bucky filed the thought away for later and focused on the present. He reached out and grasped Steve's shoulder. " _I_ don't blame you. If that helps."

Steve's breath stuttered briefly - a sound Bucky hadn't heard since the 40s. Steve reached up and grasped Bucky's hand with a nod. Bucky squeezed briefly, then released him.

Bucky changed the subject, addressing Sam to give Steve a moment to collect himself. "So we're operating under the assumption that it's different universes. Who do we know who could confirm it?"

Sam shrugged. "Foster, maybe?"

"Who's Foster?"

"Scientist. Darcy worked with her for a while. She's the best at what she does and she might be a little less swamped than the princess right now."

"Yeah, I'd ruled out asking Shuri about the tattoo in the first place for that reason," Bucky agreed.

"Maybe if Stark is up to it, we could ask him. He might be looking for something to occupy his time while he recovers," Sam suggested.

A sick feeling came over Bucky. He had to ask. "How was James' relationship with Tony Stark?"

Steve made an indifferent gesture. "They were assholes to each other, but that was about it. Why?"

Bucky grimaced. "The last time I saw him in my universe...it didn't go well."

Steve's brow furrowed. "How so?"

"Remember how I said HYDRA brainwashed me into doing things?"

Steve scowled, looking like he’d like to reach into another universe and punch an entire idology. "Yes."

Bucky stifled a laugh. Some things never change. It was sort of reassuring, actually. "One of those things was assassinating Howard and Maria Stark."

Sam let out a low whistle. "So when you say the last time you saw Tony Stark it didn't go well."

"He tried to kill me and Steve, yes."

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose like he was trying to stave off a headache. As if he got headaches anymore. "Well, at least we don't have to deal with that."

"Small favors," Bucky muttered. "Maybe we should still start with this Foster person. How do we get in touch with her?"

"I'll take care of it," Sam said.

Bucky nodded, then decided he’d stalled long enough. "Anyone know where I could find Darcy?"

"Lookin' to get hit again?" Sam asked with a grin.

"I feel like there are a few things I should clear up," Bucky said. “Someone has to. Might as well be me.”

"Sometimes, I think you like getting punched," Steve quipped.

Bucky frowned at that. "I'll take my chances." He pulled himself up and made for the door. "Wish me luck."

"She's your soulmate, you don't need luck," Steve said with an encouraging smile.

Bucky couldn't return it. "Somehow, I'm thinking being Darcy's soulmate isn't exactly going to work in my favor."


	6. Chapter 6

Bucky considered the keys in his hand. He assumed Darcy was angry enough that he wouldn’t be welcome to use them right now - although considering that they’d never actually been given to _him_ in the first place, he didn’t really have the right to use them ever. Even if she didn’t know it at first, once he explained who he was - and more importantly, who he _wasn’t_ \- she would realize the violation. They’d already met under less than ideal circumstances. He really didn’t want to antagonize her any further.

So he was stuck ringing the bell and hoping she answered the door.

He grimaced, then pushed the button. A moment later, the door slid open.

“Don’t!” Darcy growled, pointing at him. Then she turned away, leaving the door open behind her.

Was that an invitation to enter? It felt like it could be, but he didn’t really know her. For all he knew, this was her way of saying “fuck off and never come back.”

She would just say “fuck off and never come back” though, wouldn’t she? She seemed like the type who would. But this was a universe that determined your fate via cryptic tattoos, so what did he know?

Life was very complicated.

He plucked up his courage and followed her inside, closing the door behind him. He took the liberty of flipping the lock closed, a habit he’d picked up while on the run from both Steve and the remains of HYDRA that he hadn’t quite been able to shake. 

He turned away from the door and looked around, taking in the room and looking for Darcy. The entry didn’t reveal much - a small table with a bag on it, a set of hooks for coats and keys, a mat for shoes. Before he could decide whether to take off his shoes, Darcy reappeared, her hands on her hips.

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice tight.

“I’d like to tell you my side of things,” he replied.

Darcy scoffed. “What _side_ could you possibly have, James? I don’t know how many times we have to have this fight, or why you thought it would be appropriate to use my words against me, or even why you thought it was a good idea to pull that stunt after…” she motioned wildly, “...everything. I told you, a thousand times I told you - I don’t give a shit about soulmates or soulmarks.” She glared at him. “So why would you do this? Why would you try and use my words like this? Explain that. Make it make sense, because I sure can’t.”

Bucky didn’t know what to do with most of that. He didn’t know about the fights or any of their history beyond what little Steve and Sam had been able to tell him. He was left with little to work with, so he went with something he knew to be true.

“Well to start,” he said slowly, trying to ease into what was sure to be a rough conversation, “my name is Bucky.”

Darcy rolled her eyes and turned away, heading further inside. “Oh lord. This isn’t a joke, James. I can’t…” Darcy said, her voice trailing off as she stopped in her tracks and rubbed at her eyes.

Bucky followed her, keeping his steps slow and gentle while listening and watching intently for any sign that she was crying. “I’m not laughing,” he said softly, hoping she would turn around and look at him. “Darcy,” he coaxed softly, and tried to ignore how much he liked the sound of her name. 

She sighed and turned back. “What? I have done _everything_ I possibly can to not make things weird. When we were together, I did my absolute best to not make it weird that I had words and you didn’t. I would never, ever, _ever_ do something like...like this.”

He didn’t even know this person, but the pain in her voice broke him. She sounded absolutely shattered.

Unsure of what else to say, he reached up and tugged his shirt collar aside to show her his mark. Darcy didn’t quite follow the movement at first, still searching his face and waiting for an answer that he couldn’t provide. When Bucky didn’t say anything further, her eyes finally trailed to his collarbone. He clocked the moment the now-silver mark registered with her.

“Have you checked yours?” he asked quietly.

She shook her head, mutely. “Where did you get that?”

“We’re workin’ on that,” Bucky replied, letting go of his collar and slowly dropping his hand back to his side. 

“James, I…”

Bucky shook his head before she could finish that thought. “No,” he said. 

Her face scrunched up in confusion. “No?”

“Please,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t know what’s going on, I don’t understand what’s happening or why. But my name is Bucky.”

Her eyes widened again. “But…”

“Long story,” he continued. “No solid answers, just...theories.”

“Okay,” she replied. “Then start talking.”

Bucky drew in a shaky breath, then did as she asked and started talking. “We think - based on what we currently know - that somehow when everyone was brought back...I was brought here from a different universe. One without this whole soulmate thing.” He raised his hands helplessly. “Everyone keeps calling me James, and I have these words tattooed on my chest, and not a single thing makes sense right now.”

“Right,” she said. Then looked back at Bucky. “So you’re…”

“My name is Bucky,” he said again. He reached a hand out to her. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Darcy,” she whispered, taking his hand. She didn’t shake it, just held it, her touch soft even as her grip was unyielding. Not that he was trying to pull away.

“You’re taking this news in stride,” he noted.

“I do that,” she sighed. “Where’s James?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky replied. “Maybe my original universe.”

She nodded. “Can you bring him back?”

Ouch. Bucky pushed the slight out of his mind. “I don’t know.”

She looked down at their still joined hands, then suddenly up at Bucky with a sheepish expression. “Sorry about your face.”

Bucky couldn’t help but smile at that. “I’ve had worse. Nice right hook though.”

Darcy’s returning smile was tentative. “I’ve been practicing.” She finally pulled her hand out of his grasp. “Okay, so say you’re right. You are from another universe and somehow ended up in this one. What now?”

“Sam said he was going to find a scientist to confirm the theory - someone named Foster?”

Darcy nodded. “Jane’s a good pick. This is right up her alley. And honestly, even if it wasn’t the puzzle would be too tempting. She’ll want to be involved.” She gave him a rueful grin. “You drew the short straw in coming to explain to me, huh?”

Bucky frowned at her self-deprecating tone. “I offered.”

Darcy gaped at him. “Why?” she asked. “You don’t know me. And I just punched you in the face for it.” She grimaced. “At least it wasn’t the taser,” she muttered. “Then I might feel bad. Maybe.”

“You don’t feel bad about the punch?” he asked, covering his amusement. 

“Not really. I felt it justified at the time.”

Bucky chuckled lightly, then returned to her question. “Your misunderstanding was with me. It’s only right that I came to clear it up. As much as I can right now, anyway.”

Darcy made a non-committal sound, but there was something in her eyes - a flicker of pain in her expression, maybe - that suggested she wasn’t quite as indifferent to his explanation as she’d like him to believe. But it was gone as quickly as it arrived, so he couldn’t be sure it was ever there at all.

“Well thank you, I guess,” Darcy said, her eyes shuttering to him. “For not leaving me to wonder.” She motioned to the door, ushering him back out of her house in such a perfunctory manner as to not leave any room for him to question it. She pulled on the door, the lock catching with a bang. She shot him a look, then unlatched the lock and opened the door, standing aside so he could exit. 

He stepped outside then turned back to her.

“Good luck getting back to where you belong,” Darcy said with finality, then firmly closed the door in his face. He heard the click of the lock. 

He stood on her front stoop, a little stunned at the abrupt dismissal. He went over the conversation, trying to determine where he might have gone wrong or what he could have done better, but given the circumstances, he was pretty sure he had done as well as he could.

He was about to turn to go when he heard a noise just inside the door. A soft thump, a swish, then a whimper. He leaned a little closer to the door, then jolted back when he finally identified the source of the sound.

Darcy had leaned back against the door, then slid to the floor.

And she was crying.


	7. Chapter 7

Bucky clenched his fists, indecision weighing on him. He should just leave well enough alone. That would be the smart thing to do. He didn’t even really know Darcy, in this universe or any other.

But despite his best efforts, the memory of her soft sobs would not leave him alone. 

So here he was, knocking on her door and imposing on her good will one more time. He just hoped he didn’t get punched again. 

Darcy opened the door, then stopped short. “Uh. Hello.”

Bucky’s best grin might have been a little rusty, but he gave it a shot. Maybe it didn’t fit the same way it used to, maybe it was a little worn, but it seemed to come back easily enough. “Morning!” 

Darcy narrowed her eyes at him. “What are you doing here?”

Maybe the grin wasn’t quite as effective as he’d imagined. He knew he should have practiced it in the mirror. He resigned himself to appearing grumpy for the rest of his life.

“I wanted to take you out for coffee,” he said.

“What?”

“Coffee.” He paused. “Do you drink coffee?”

“I drink coffee,” Darcy confirmed. “I practically mainline coffee. But why?”

Why indeed. It was entirely possible that maybe this hadn’t been the best idea. Maybe she wanted nothing to do with him, soulmate or not. Bucky was undecided how he felt about that quirk of this particular universe - maybe Darcy was indifferent. Maybe she was openly hostile to the idea and Bucky showing up at her door was a rude - if unintentional - antagonization.

But the soft sound of her crying echoed through his head and he probably wouldn’t be able to forget it until he figured out a way to make it right. Even if their predicament wasn’t strictly his fault, he still wanted to make it right.

There were so many things he would never be able to make right. At least here he could try.

There were so many maybes, so many questions swirling through his head. So why exactly was he knocking on her door, asking her to coffee?

“Why not?” Bucky countered, finally.

Darcy’s gaze was wary, but she relented, pulling her door firmly shut behind her.

“You’re buying,” she said.

“Of course.”

“I have expensive taste in coffee.”

Bucky bit back a grin. “I’ll survive.”

They started walking. Bucky mentally flipped through the list of conversation topics he’d prepared the night before when he’d had this crazy idea, scrambling as they all felt forced or trite now that he was actually in Darcy’s presence. His internal distress grew as the seconds ticked by and he wished he could just _pick something_ and spit it out already.

“So how was your evening?” Darcy prompted after the silence had gone on a little too long.

Bucky grimaced. “I used to be better at this,” he mumbled.

Darcy gave him a knowing look. “Not popular with the girls and boys back home?”

“I haven’t been popular with anyone in...a long time,” he admitted.

Darcy’s look lost a little bit of its edge. “Since before the war?”

Bucky hesitated. It was a too-familiar question from someone he’d just met and he would have immediately shut down the entire conversation had the question come from just about anyone else. But with Darcy? It wasn’t that he didn’t want to share. To his own surprise, he did want to tell her. He just wasn’t sure how. 

“How much did James’ tell you about his past?” Bucky asked.

Darcy shrugged. “Enough, I guess? I know how he got here - to this century, I mean. I know a few highlights of things before that. He didn’t like to talk about it. Why?”

He wasn’t sure if that would make this better or worse. “In talking to Steve and Sam, I think James and I have a bit of a different story.”

Her laugh was short and sharp. “With no soulmates in your universe, I would think so.”

Bucky grimaced again. Fuck, this was painful. “Beyond that.”

Darcy frowned, slowing a little as they approached the cafe. “How so?”

“To start, I wasn’t on the Valkyrie with Steve.”

Darcy grabbed Bucky’s sleeve and pulled them to a stop just beside the door as she turned to face him. “Then how in the world did you end up in the future? And if you even say that you just use a really great moisturizer I am going to reconsider my stance on punching you again.”

Bucky tried to smile, but he didn’t have to practice this one in the mirror to know it was sad. “It’s not really a story for the first 24 hours after meeting someone,” he warned.

Darcy shook her head. “Well...pretend I’m your Darcy then. What would you tell her?”

“Darcy…” Bucky’s voice trailed off as he tried to find the words. Everything he thought of got caught in his throat and died. 

Darcy’s expression shifted from confusion to concern before brightening. She gave him a light, playful tap, knocking her hand into his shoulder. “Come on,” she coaxed with a smile. “Tell me.”

That smile was dangerous. She could topple empires with that smile.

“I’ve never met the Darcy Lewis that exists in my old universe.”

The smile slipped off Darcy’s face. “Oh.” Darcy looked away for a bit, then back at him with a new smile, one that was just a little more brittle this time. “Well, whoever. Pretend I’m your special someone back home.”

Ouch.

“I don’t have someone,” Bucky replied. He turned and opened the door to the cafe, holding it for her even as he was unable to meet Darcy’s eyes. “I don’t have anyone.”

“Oh,” she said again, her face falling once more. She entered the cafe without looking at him, carefully going past so as to not brush against him at all. 

Maybe this was a mistake.

He followed her inside and joined her at the counter. She glanced at him, clearly uneasy as the silence between them settled heavily. He focused on the menu board instead, trying to decide what he wanted to order, and fighting the urge to guess what Darcy might like.

If he failed at that, well. He could tell himself that he was just trying to determine how much the total would be.

This was definitely a mistake.

At their turn, they stepped to the counter. Bucky gestured for Darcy to go ahead.

“Anything you want,” he said. “My treat.” He tried for a smile. “Even if you do have expensive taste.”

Darcy looked a little stricken at what was intended as a light-hearted comment, then turned to the barista. She muttered an order Bucky didn’t quite catch, then hurried away to wait at the pickup area. 

“Make that two, I guess,” Bucky said. He paid, then joined Darcy at the pick up area.

“I’m sorry I’m making this so difficult,” Darcy said. “I don’t want to. I’m trying, it’s just -” She cut herself off and looked at him. “I’ll do better.”

Bucky nodded. “I’m sorry I can’t make it easier for you.”

Darcy’s smile was a bit rueful. “It’s not on you.”

“Still.”

Two cups were placed on the counter. Bucky grabbed them and offered one to Darcy. She accepted it with a smile. “Want to sit and chat for a bit?”

“Don’t you need to get to work or something?”

“Eh. They won’t miss me.” She paused. “That’s a lie. They will miss me. But I’m the boss, so they’ll suck it up and deal with it.”

Bucky wasn’t sure how that could be possible, how anyone could not miss Darcy, but kept the thought to himself. “It’s too nice outside. Let’s walk.” They left the cafe and started down the street, not having any real direction or aim. Bucky had a vague thought of maybe heading down to the waterfront area, but was willing to let their whims take them in whatever direction. 

“So,” he said, once they were away from the majority of the crowd on the street, “you wanted to know my story.”

Darcy made a slightly distressed sound into her cup as she took a sip of her coffee. “Only if you want to tell me,” she insisted. “I’ve got no right to demand...anything of you, really.”

Bucky considered that for a bit. As a rule, he didn’t shy away from his history. The only way he was ever going to have any control over his life was to confront his past and do his best to make peace with it. His fault or not, he would never be able to atone for the things he’d done. He didn’t have to like it, but part of regaining control over his life was learning to accept it. And part of accepting it was talking about it.

That didn’t mean it was first date topic material.

_This isn’t a date_ he quickly reminded himself.

He snuck a glance at Darcy, who caught him and smiled.

Fuck, this really wasn’t a date. He needed to get a grip already.

“Maybe just the short version,” he bit out, before the silence grew uncomfortable again. He took a sip of his coffee, a momentary cover to give himself time to put the words together. “So by the time Steve took down the Valkyrie, I had been MIA for a few weeks. Presumed dead. The thing was - I wasn’t. HYDRA found me. And they kept me for...for a long time.”

Darcy’s eyes widened, but she kept quiet, not even sipping her coffee as they walked. 

Bucky nudged her with his elbow. “Drink up, that was expensive,” he teased. It wasn’t, actually, she hadn’t ordered more than a standard drip coffee, but he was trying to lighten the mood. Heaven knew the next part of the story would bring it down again, there was no need for her to get upset now.

Darcy rolled her eyes good naturedly, then sipped her coffee.

Bucky took another sip of his own, stalling for more time to figure out how to phrase this next part. He didn’t want to lie, not even by omission. But some things weren’t meant for polite company. Finally, he just came out with it as best he could.

“While I was their prisoner, I wasn’t just a prisoner. HYDRA made use of me. Brainwashed me, so I didn’t fight them or try to escape. And then they had me...do things. Terrible things. Unforgivable things.” He paused for another sip of his coffee. “Their fatal mistake was sending me to kill Steve. He broke their hold over me. Got me out. Chased me all over the planet until I finally slowed down long enough for him to catch me.”

“How did you end up in the future?” Darcy asked.

“Steve went down in the plane, slept in that ice flow for 70 years, just like here. In that same time, HYDRA kept me in cryofreeze when they didn’t have a use for me.”

Darcy’s eyes widened in horror but she didn’t ask or comment further. He wasn’t sure if he wanted her to. “Where were you when Thanos came?” she asked instead.

“Living in Wakanda. Steve talked T’Challa into helping me, asking Shuri to remove all the boobytraps HYDRA planted in my head. I’d been here for a few years by the time Thanos arrived. So I suited up, went to fight. Then I guess we lost. Until we didn’t. And then I was here.”

He purposely left the part about Natasha out. Was it a lie of omission if he wasn’t entirely sure that exchange had been real? He wasn’t sure. Then again, he wasn’t sure what happened to Natasha in this universe. Had she died here too? He should probably check on that.

He didn’t want to believe that he’d imagined it. But he wasn’t sure he was comfortable with someone else pulling the strings, even if it was Natasha. He’d had enough of being a puppet for one lifetime.

“Wow,” Darcy said quietly. “That’s...I’m sorry.” At Bucky’s shrug, she continued. “No. Really. That’s...that’s a lot. Even the short version.” She tentatively reached for his sleeve, pulling lightly at the fabric around his elbow. “You’re doing okay though?”

“I get by.”

Darcy quirked a skeptical eyebrow at him. “Uh huh,” she said, her voice flat, clearly not believing him at all.

Bucky couldn’t help but grin. “I’m okay. I’m a miserable bastard most of the time, but I’ve always been that way.”

The look Darcy gave him seared through him and he forced himself to not look away.

“No,” she said quietly. “Somehow, I don’t think you are.”

Silence fell between them again, far more comfortable now than it had been before. They continued walking until they finally reached the science annex where Darcy worked.

Bucky looked up at all the metal and glass that made up the building’s facade. “Guess I should come in, huh? Let some of you science types poke at me for a while.” He raised a hand to shield his eyes from the bright sunshine glinting off the building, not meeting her eyes so she couldn’t see how the idea was less than appealing.

Darcy frowned at him. “I guess,” she said slowly. “If we’re ever going to figure out how to get you home.”

Bucky nodded, even if he wasn’t all that sure he _wanted_ to go back. Even if he did, then what? “Or at least figure out what happened,” he said.

Darcy stared at him and he tried to ignore the feeling crawling up his spine. Her gaze was static electricity building under his skin and he didn’t know if he wanted to ground himself on the nearest surface or let it build until they would both explode in a shower of sparks. “I’ll stick with you,” she said, then quickly continued. “If you want.” She tried to smile, but it wobbled a little. It was nice and he liked it more than he probably should. “I can at least vouch for anyone you don’t know.”

“I’m sure you have better things to do.” He smiled. “Being the boss and all.”

“No.”

Their eyes met and Bucky felt his heart flutter a little. It was odd, this quiet feeling that was growing in his chest. If he wasn’t careful, he was pretty sure it would quickly consume him.

He wasn’t so sure that would be a bad thing. Static electricity sparks it was then. He hoped neither of them would burn for it.

“Okay,” he said. “Protector status decided.” He nodded at the door. “Shall we?”

Darcy grinned and looped an arm through his. “Let’s go do some science.”


	8. Chapter 8

“Yes. You’re from a different universe.”

A weight lifted from Bucky’s chest at the confirmation and his breath escaped him in a shaky laugh. “Okay. Okay. Good. I think.” He looked back at Shuri. “Are you sure?”

Shuri gave him an incredulous look and Bucky held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry,” he muttered.

Shuri grinned. “The vibranium in your arm _is_ vibranium, but it is not _my_ vibranium. It has a different resonance frequency than any vibranium in this universe should have. So yes. I’m sure.”

“Any ideas how this happened?” Steve asked. “Is there a hole in the universe somewhere that we need to be worried about? Could something else slip through?”

“All my readings are stable,” Jane replied, not looking up from her tablet. “I don’t think we’re in any danger of universal collapse just yet.”

“ _Universal collapse?_ ” Bucky yelped. 

“Just yet?” Steve added warily.

Jane grinned at them. “I _said_ I don’t think we’re in any danger.”

“I still don’t have to like the idea that my unintentionally waking up here might wipe out an entire universe,” Bucky replied. 

“We’re not gonna let that happen, Buck,” Steve reassured, then quickly added. “Bucky. Sorry. Overfamiliar.”

“It’s fine,” Bucky murmured. 

“Can we use this information to locate James?” Darcy asked, in her ever-blunt way.

The room quickly fell silent and Bucky tried not to be hurt at the question. He knew it didn’t really have anything to do with him personally - he was the one out of place, and James was the one who was missing. It was a valid question. 

It just still sort of stung. Especially since apparently _he_ was Darcy’s soulmate, not James. 

And the entire room knew it. Even if Bucky wasn’t sure he bought the whole soulmate thing, just about everyone else in the room did. Thus, awkward silence. After a long and uncomfortable moment, Darcy spoke up again. “Could we...I don’t know, maybe scan for vibranium from this universe, then cross-reference it with the readings from the vibranium in Bucky’s arm? That should give us a place to start looking for James, right?”

Steve shifted his weight, leaning back against the desk and mirroring Bucky’s stance. Bucky noted Steve’s defensive posturing and felt a small rush of affection for him. 

“And then what?” Steve asked, his tone deceptively neutral. Bucky knew that tone. Steve usually did something stupid when that tone was involved.

The obvious answer of “then Bucky goes back to wherever he came from and James returns here” hung in the air, but no one gave voice to it. Shuri’s gaze flitted between Steve and Darcy, before finally lingering on Bucky. He pretended not to notice her scrutiny.

“Let’s see what we find when we find it,” she suggested slowly, as though she were choosing her words very carefully. It didn’t sound like the Shuri he knew, but maybe this version of her was a little more cautious than her counterpart. 

“We need to move fast,” Jane said. “If my calculations are correct, our best chance at getting a good scan of another universe is diminishing quickly. All that residual energy from using the Infinity Stones to reverse Thanos’ attack is dissipating.”

“All right. Let me know when you find something or if there’s anything I can do to help. Thanks everyone.” Steve sagged slightly as the scientists hurried away, all eager to begin their search.

“What’s got you down, Steve?” Bucky asked, his voice dry. If this Steve was anything like the one he knew, he had a pretty good guess at the answer.

“They’re not trying to get rid of you,” Steve said. “I don’t want you to think no one wants you here.” 

“But I don’t belong here,” Bucky said, resigned. It stung, but Bucky was getting used to that. 

“I’m not so sure that’s true,” Steve murmured.

Bucky shifted, uncrossing his arms and turning towards Steve so as to keep their conversation a little more private. “What do you mean?”

“Well you have words, to start. Clearly the universe thinks you belong here.”

Bucky frowned. “Are you saying you think that someone without words doesn’t belong here?”

Steve winced. “No. No, of course not, not at all. But you weren’t born into this universe - you suddenly arrived. And the universe decided to give you words anyway. There’s gotta be something to that.” He held up a hand to stop any argument Bucky might have made before he could start. “And even if you don’t want to believe in soulmates or words or the universe having a plan at all. I still think that you belong here.”

“Why?” Bucky asked. He had his own opinion on the subject, of course. But he still wanted to know Steve’s.

“You just...you fit here, Buck. Better than James ever did.” Steve shook his head. “Part of that was my fault, I know. But it just...it’s a chance to start over. Do things right. And-”

“I’m not him, Steve,” Bucky interrupted. “I am not James. James is gone and I have no idea if he’s ever coming back.” He paused, then continued quietly. “It’s...probably better for everyone if I -”

“No, I know that! I know you’re not James,” Steve insisted. “I do. I’m not saying this right.” Steve closed his eyes in frustration and Bucky gave him a moment to collect his thoughts. “This is...this is really hard. I know you’re not James and I would never pretend that you are. What I’m trying to say is that I think that you and I could be friends. That I could be the friend to you that I should have been to him. And if you’ll let me, I’d like to try. For however long you’re here.”

Bucky considered that. One of the reasons it stung so much whenever someone suggested he go home or that he didn’t belong was because...he felt like he did. Or that he _could_. That this place could be...something. More so than the universe he came from anyway. And to hear Steve echo that same feeling...

Steve was right. This _was_ hard. But ignoring it wasn’t going to make it any easier.

Heaven knew he’d made his own mistakes with the Steve he’d known before. Maybe this was a chance for everyone to be the friend they should have been. For however long it lasted.

“You know, if you’re lookin’ for more friends, joining a softball league might be easier,” Bucky grinned.

Steve let out a startled laugh that quickly slid into a relieved grin. “It’s good to know any version of you is an asshole.”

“I try,” Bucky replied.

Steve grinned back at him, then motioned with a nod of his head. “Incoming.”

“Incoming?” 

“Bucky?”

He turned to find Darcy standing behind him, looking a little nervous.

“Good luck,” Steve muttered.

“I heard that!” Darcy called out to Steve as he walked away. Steve acknowledged her with a wave then disappeared around the corner. Darcy shook her head at Steve as she watched him go, then returned her attention to Bucky.

“So,” she said.

“So,” he replied.

Darcy bobbed her head, looking like she knew what she wanted to say, but couldn’t quite get the words to come out. Bucky could empathize. He waited patiently. 

Finally, Darcy huffed and shook her head, smiling ruefully as she ducked his gaze for a moment before looking back up at him. “Food?”

Bucky felt a half smile growing. “You askin’ me to dinner?”

“Not a date,” she replied emphatically. “Just a...getting to know you dinner.”

“Of course,” Bucky agreed.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

* * *

“Sooooo…” Darcy said, dragging out the vowel as she played with the stem of her water glass, rolling it between her fingers and making the bubbly water swirl. She blew out a long breath, puffing out her cheeks as she did, before finally leaning back into her chair and looking at him with grim determination.

“This isn’t about the soulmate thing.”

Bucky paused. “Okay.”

“Soulmates are stupid and manipulative and the whole thing is a farce.”

“Okay.” Her vehemence was a little surprising, but he supposed she had her reasons. He wondered if she’d ever tell him what those reasons were. If he’d be here long enough to gain that kind of trust.

If he wanted to.

Darcy looked a little unsettled at his easy acceptance, but kept going. “I mean it, you know. I’m not going to just fall all over myself or you just because some random mark on my body matches some thing you said that one time.”

“Okay.”

Darcy’s laugh was incredulous. “‘Okay’ he says. That’s it?”

Bucky shrugged. “Sure.”

“Why?” Her expression was somewhere between exasperated and curious. He really tried not to think about how adorable it was.

His responding grin was open and easy, doing his best to set her at ease. “No soulmates where I came from, remember? The whole thing really doesn’t mean anything to me.” Which wasn’t entirely true. He still wasn’t sure if he really believed in it, and was a bit surprised that it was such an accepted concept here, but at the same time the idea appealed to his long-dormant romantic side. There was a part of him that ached for it all to be true. 

“Right. Okay.”

“Can I ask...why dinner?” Bucky asked, gently trying to move the conversation in a safer direction. “If the whole soulmate thing is a sham, why not just leave to fend for myself?”

“Well...I punched you. And you really hadn’t earned it.”

“You didn’t know that at the time. And you’ve already apologized for that.”

“I know.” Darcy spoke more to the water glass she continued to fidget with than to him. “It’s strange. It feels like I know you, even when I don’t. I have to keep reminding myself that I don’t know you. And then I feel bad about it all, because I know you didn’t ask for any of this - literally. Any of it. And…” Her voice trailed off. She took a sip of her water, then carefully rolled the stem of the glass between her fingertips again as she set it back down. 

“James and I broke up about a year before The Decimation.”

“The Decimation?”

Darcy glared. “I am not calling it the blip. And no one seems to like my idea of calling it the snapture so…” She shrugged, then continued. “Things with James were _over_. Well and truly over. But we still fought like it wasn’t. The last conversation I ever had with him was an argument.” She paused and took another sip. “You are not him, you are not some replacement or chance at a do-over or anything dumb like that. But I see you and I know that you’re...out of place. Alone. And I don’t know how you feel about that, but to me it’s…” She sighed. “Well, I just hope that wherever he is, he finds someone who won’t leave him to fend for himself either.” She broke into a grin. “And besides, we’re friends, right? Friends do dinner.”

“We’re not friends, Darcy.”

Her face fell. “Oh.”

“But we could be.”

“Jerk.” Then she perked up a little. “Really?” 

Bucky nodded. “Especially if you don’t punch me again.”

“Oh, it was one time, you big baby. Let it go.”

“Not a chance, dollface.” Darcy glared at the endearment and Bucky grinned. He was absolutely going to call her dollface from now on. “Now,” he said, looking down at his menu, “what’s good here?”

Darcy opened her menu and began to browse the options. “I subsist on ramen noodles and coffee, no one wants my advice.”

Bucky looked up at her. “I do,” he replied sincerely. He _would_ add that for 70 years, he’d had nothing but protein bars and nutrient slurry, but he didn’t want to bring down the mood with Winter Soldier talk. That was more of a 10th date sort of topic.

Not that he’d _had_ a 10th date since HYDRA. Not that this was a date.

Darcy smiled at him over her menu and he felt his heart trip and stumble, just a little. It was a very nice smile.

Bucky returned the smile, with the sinking realization that no matter what happened, no matter how this played out, no matter what universe he ultimately ended up in, the only thing he was destined for was heartache. One way or another.


	9. Chapter 9

Bucky cautiously approached the entrance to Darcy’s lab. He’d heard the rumors that things tended to go _boom_ around this level. He didn’t want his unannounced visit to be the cause of any unintentional explosions. Everything sounded quiet, so he gently rapped his knuckles on the glass at the entrance. 

Darcy looked up from her screen. “Bucky?”

“Hey,” he said, slowly entering the lab. He held out the tray in his hand. “Afternoon pick-me-up?”

Darcy looked down at the tray. “You brought me coffee.”

“I did.”

“No one brings me coffee.”

“Someone should.” He paused. “So...I...did…”

Darcy looked at him with an unreadable expression on her face, then blinked and smiled. “Thanks.” She reached towards the tray, so Bucky could pull one of the paper cups out of its spot and hand it to her. “One of those better be for you,” she added as she took the cup from him and raised it. Her eyes fluttered closed as she smiled at the aroma wafting from the cup, then she took a long sip. 

He was in so much trouble.

Bucky pushed the thought away as he pulled one cup from the tray for himself, then offered the tray to Jane, who didn’t even look up. After a moment of Bucky standing there, holding the tray out to someone who was seemingly ignoring him, he was unsure of what to do. She didn’t look like she was working on anything that could explode, but still. Better safe than sorry. He looked to Darcy for help. 

Darcy smiled a knowing smile, then cleared her throat loudly and deliberately. “Jane. Rude.”

Jane blinked and tore her eyes away from her screen. “What? Oh!” Jane’s smile was sheepish as she took the last coffee from the tray. “Thanks Bucky. What’s the occasion?”

“Just curious to see how it was going, that’s all.”

“Somebody’s anxious to get home,” Darcy said. Her tone was flat, losing the warmth it had held just a moment ago, but she was turned away from him, so he couldn’t quite get a read on her. Was she kidding? He hoped she was kidding.

“Are we discouraging curiosity now?” Jane asked, frowning at Darcy.

“Maybe someone is looking for any excuse to hang out in the lab,” Bucky offered. Which was true - he _was_ curious about their work. Seeing Darcy was a bonus. He attempted to keep his tone just this side of flirting - he wasn’t sure he really remembered _how_ to flirt with a pretty girl anymore, and it wasn’t clear if Darcy would welcome it anyway. The way Jane was hiding a grin behind her coffee cup suggested he might have overdone it just a little.

Apparently, he just couldn’t help himself when it came to Darcy. 

“See?” Jane said.

“Since when do you like science?” Darcy asked, a laugh in her voice. Bucky glanced again at Jane, who gave him an encouraging smile, then silently melted out of the lab and down the hall. He took that as a good sign. That maybe Darcy was flirting back. 

Or maybe it was just wishful thinking. If they’d met under different circumstances, if they didn’t have ex-boyfriends and soulmate tattoos and actual, _literal_ universes separating them, maybe this would be easier. Maybe he would have a better idea of what to do, would feel more sure about the whole thing. Heartbreak city, she was. He almost looked forward to it.

He knew he should work harder to keep his feelings in check. But the truth of the matter was that the initial attraction he’d felt had only grown and it was becoming something of a problem. He knew Darcy had reservations, she’d been clear that their dinner the other night had not been a date.

But she was also flirting back. Maybe.

Just the idea made him want to take a chance. He leaned against the desk and tilted his head to try to get a look at her, even if she was hiding behind her curtain of hair. “Maybe I just like _your_ science,” he murmured.

Darcy’s response was a little quiet and unsure. “My science?”

Bucky offered his most charming grin. “What science do you do again? Because it’s my new favorite.”

Darcy let out a sound that was half laugh, half groan. “Are you just here to pretend to flirt with me?”

“Who’s pretending?” he shot back.

Darcy finally turned to look at him. She was silent as she studied him. He let her and hoped she liked whatever she saw.

After a few moments, he saw more uncertainty and maybe a little bit of panic in her eyes. He immediately backed off. He leaned away slightly, keeping his expression open but softening the flirtatious curl of his smile to something a little more neutral, a little more friendly. 

“What are you working on? Can I help with anything?” he asked.

Darcy blinked a few times at the sudden shift in tone, but seemed to recover quickly. “Help? How?”

Bucky shrugged. “Do you need to move anything heavy? It’s about all I’m good for.”

Darcy huffed. “I’m sure that’s not true. But no, no heavy lifting today, but I’m keeping the offer in mind and will absolutely take you up on it someday. You’re going to regret ever making it.”

“Doubtful.” The response might have been backtracking a little on his resolve to ease up on the flirting, but it was also sincere. He didn’t think he would regret the offer. 

If he would be here long enough to regret the offer.

Because that was the problem wasn’t it? Could he get back to his original universe? He didn’t know Darcy there and if he did ever meet her, they wouldn’t have all of the other factors hanging over them that he and this Darcy did. Maybe going back would be easier.

Darcy grinned and Bucky’s heart stumbled. “Well that just sounds like a challenge. How many heavy things can I ask you to move before you regret offering to help?”

Maybe he didn’t want easy. Maybe he wanted to fight for it, to earn it. 

He just needed to figure out if that was what she wanted too.

“Are you going to plot my downfall all day or are you going to show me what mad science you’re cookin’ up in here?” Bucky asked.

Darcy gave him a wary look, but it was quickly overtaken by a warm look in her eye. “You really want to know?”

“Yeah,” he promised. “I really want to know.”

* * *

“Hey Robocop!” a voice called from somewhere behind him. Bucky turned around to look, but found the hallway empty. He was still floating a little from all the time spent in close proximity to Darcy and his situational awareness admittedly not at its peak. That should probably worry him a little more than it did.

“In here!”

Bucky followed the voice into a small exam room, where Tony Stark was rolling his new, artificial shoulder and flexing the metal arm attached to it. It was a strikingly similar model to his own. 

Bucky hesitated, unsure how to approach the situation. He hadn’t known Stark well in his old universe, their only real meeting being the time Stark had tried to kill him. Bucky wasn’t sure if things had been different, if Stark had found out the truth about his parents and Bucky’s role in their deaths some other way, or if he’d known earlier, if maybe that would have changed their relationship. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to test that out with this version of Tony Stark either. That didn’t feel quite fair to anyone, so Bucky had been avoiding the man up until now.

But Stark had called _him_ , so it didn’t look like avoidance was an option any longer.

“Yeah, I know about the parallel universe, and yeah I know what happened there,” Stark said. “I’ve thought about it and now I never want to think about it again, so let’s just move on, okay?”

“I don’t really know what to say to that,” Bucky replied.

“Intellectually, I know it wasn’t your fault, okay? I don’t really want to dive any further into it.”

Bucky didn’t really want to belabor the point, but he couldn’t quite stop himself from continuing. “It might not be my fault. But I still did it.”

Stark’s smile was grim. “Howard and Maria Stark are currently safe and sound at their vacation home in Maui.”

“Doesn’t change anything.” 

“No. It doesn’t. But I’m also not going to dwell on it. Besides, I need help and I figure you’re the best person to do it.”

Bucky frowned, still unsure about Stark, and completely clueless as to what he could possibly need Bucky’s help for. “What is it?”

Stark held up his new, metal hand and waggled the fingers. The movements were jerky and slow, not at all like the smooth, natural movement of Bucky’s own prosthetic. “Who knew the cost of saving the universe would be an arm?” He looked at his metal hand as he turned his palm towards him, still attempting to flex his fingers. “Any thoughts?”

“For the movement?” Stark nodded. “Physical therapy.” 

“Boring,” Stark shot back.

Bucky swallowed a sigh and considered the question. From what he’d heard, the Tony Stark in his universe had built a custom gym in the Avengers compound when James Rhodes had been injured in Germany. If something similar had happened here, between that and everything that the doctors were telling him, Bucky had no idea why Stark would be asking him. The answers Stark needed were right there in front of him.

But he was asking, so Bucky gave the answer a shot anyway. “Well. When I got my first prosthetic, HYDRA wasn’t exactly big on accessibility.” He paused, trying to rein in his bitter tone. “But they had me fighting and training not long after the surgery so...I don’t know. If you don’t want to do standard exercises or anything, maybe go help on Clint’s farm or something. Big movements, chop wood or throw hay bales.”

Stark seemed to consider this, then nodded. “What about fine motor control?”

“Knife twirling?” The answer wasn’t entirely in jest, but Bucky had to laugh at the look he got for it. “I don’t know. I’ve always liked knitting.”

“Knitting.”

“Think of a knit pattern like computer code.”

“Huh.” Stark sat back a little and nodded. “Fair enough.”

“You didn’t need me for this though.”

“It’s all data,” Stark replied. “You’re a solid primary source.”

“And?”

Stark grinned, clearly delighted that Bucky had seen through him and called him on it. “Maybe I just wanted to meet you. You _have_ been a little hard to find. By me, anyway. Rumor has it, a certain doctor around here as a full-access pass.”

“You mean Darcy.”

“Free advice - she loves Italian food. Look, I know it’s complicated. Soulmates are never not complicated. Add in everything else, and you’ve got your work cut out for you. But if you can make it work? It’s worth it.”

“Did you make it work?”

“Me?” Stark laughed. “Hell no, I messed it up repeatedly. But when it worked? It worked.” He frowned down at his hand again. “Knitting, huh?”

Bucky shrugged. “I think Darcy knows how, maybe she can point you to a tutorial or something.”

“Aw, you’re not going to offer to teach me yourself?”

“Not on your life.”

Stark’s eyes lit up with delight once more and he laughed. “I like you. You’re much funnier than James.”

“Thank you?” Bucky wasn’t sure he appreciated the comparison, even if it was technically a compliment. He hadn’t decided how he felt about the fact that he was apparently so very different from this universe’s version of himself. He didn’t want to wonder about any other James Barnes in any other universe and how he might compare. Was James the outlier? Or was he?

He probably didn’t want to know.

“Bucky?”

Bucky turned towards the door, grateful for the distraction from his own thoughts and the escape from the current conversation. Darcy was standing in the doorway.

He turned back to Stark who dismissed him with a wave. “See you later, loverboy. I have knitting to do, apparently.”

Bucky swallowed a sigh and nodded at Stark in lieu of a goodbye, then turned back to Darcy. He motioned for her to lead the way into the hallway so he could follow.

“Hey,” he said.

“What was all that in there?” she asked. 

“Stark…” Bucky paused and corrected himself. “ _Tony_. He was asking for some advice. I guess the new arm is giving him some grief.”

“What’d you tell him?”

“I recommended he take up knitting.”

Darcy blinked. “Knitting.”

“Yeah. Hey, you know of any good tutorials you could send him? My ma taught me a hundred years ago, so I don’t know what the kids these days are doing.”

Darcy’s expression softened. “You’re giving Tony Stark advice for his arm rehab and you’re asking for my help?”

“Well. Yeah. I trust your opinion.”

“Oh. Sure, I’ll dig a few things up for him. No problem.” Darcy silently studied Bucky for a few moments then suddenly blurted, “We should do dinner. Tonight. If you’re free.”

“I’m not really dressed for -”

“We can stay in. Do something at your place. If that’s okay.”

Bucky quickly reviewed the contents of his kitchen and thanked his lucky stars he’d finally gotten everything cleaned up. It had only taken most of the weekend and 3 gallons of bleach. It still wasn’t the biggest mess he’d ever had to clean up. “That would great.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Darcy nodded then turned and started back towards her lab. Bucky watched her go and silently thanked Tony for the tip about Italian food. He waited until she reached the end of the hall before turning himself, mentally making a shopping list for everything he’d need for cacio e pepe. 

“Oh and Bucky?”

He turned back to see Darcy had reappeared at the end of the hall. 

“Yeah Darce?”

She smiled at the nickname. “Tonight is definitely a date.”


	10. Chapter 10

Bucky looked around, surveying his house. Darcy was due any minute and he needed to be sure everything was ready. He hadn’t entertained or even been on a real date in decades and he’d never met anyone who had the potential to completely steal his heart the way Darcy did. 

So he wasn’t going to overthink it. If he just kept busy until she arrived, he wouldn’t have time to think about being nervous. 

Living room? Tidy.

Bathroom? Spotless.

Kitchen? Clean, with all the ingredients for dinner chopped, measured, and organized, with boiling water at the ready for the pasta.

Bedroom? …that was getting ahead of things.

Bucky shook off the thought and resolved that he was as ready as he could be. Now all there was left to do was wait for Darcy’s arrival.

He frowned. There had to be something left to do. If there wasn’t something left to do, he was going to start thinking and thinking lead to _overthinking_ and if he was going to get through this without completely breaking down he couldn’t afford to overthink anything.

A soft, frustrated growl escaped him. Clearly, the silence in the house was starting to get to him, making him even more irritable than normal and _that_ certainly wasn’t going to work. He didn’t want to be irritable for his date with Darcy. He drummed his fingers on the counter, just for a break in the silence. He quickly tapped out a rhythm for a half-forgotten melody.

There was an idea.

He went to the wall and tapped at a few buttons on the control panel, looking for music to pipe through the speakers. But what to pick? Something from when he was younger didn’t feel quite right - no need to remind Darcy of yet one difference between them. He wouldn’t hide it, of course, why would he? But there was no use purposely drawing attention to it either. Still, he hadn’t done much exploring of modern music in his old universe and had no idea how music might be different here. He supposed the whole soulmate thing would exert some influence over popular culture, but he hadn’t had time to really dive into it yet. It was something to look forward to really - there was a whole new world for him to explore here. Maybe Darcy would be able to recommend a starting point.

None of these thoughts helped him now. He finally bit the bullet and pulled up James’ files. He frowned as he read through them. Bucky’s counterpart had curated a few playlists but they all had ominous-sounding titles. 

“Songs to Commit Crimes To”  
“It’s Angry Bees O’Clock, Motherfuckers”  
“Dance and Cry”  
“I Put The Fun In Funeral”

Finally, there was one that was just a bunch of yarn ball emojis. Bucky was pretty sure he wasn’t ready for any of that. Maybe the service had some pre-made playlists? But how would he know what to choose? Was there a playlist in existence called “I’m hopeless, please help me before I blow it with this pretty girl that’s way out of my league oh and also my literal soulmate, send help?”

Probably not. That title was way too long.

A pop-up appeared on the screen, letting him know he had a message. He tapped the accept button and grinned in relief at the note.

_From: Sam_  
_You’ll thank me later._  
_ATTC: datenight_playlist_

Bucky loaded the playlist and pressed play. Music softly filtered through the house, setting the exact atmosphere he’d been hoping for. It was relaxing and just enough to fill the silence, but not overwhelming. 

“Thanks pal,” Bucky muttered. Before he could grab his phone to send a message to Sam, there was a knock at the door. He moved to the door and grasped the handle, took a deep breath to settle his remaining nerves, then opened the door.

Darcy smiled at him and any remaining thoughts of Sam or music or their predicament fled entirely. “So I can’t actually cook.”

Bucky burst out laughing at her deadpan delivery. Thankfully, his reaction did not deter her.

“It occured to me, not long after I left you in the hallway, that not only did I invite myself over to your house, but I also did so without a full disclosure that _you’d_ be doing any cooking,” she continued. “I am fully prepared to order takeout, or we could go somewhere, but I wanted to clear the air immediately and apologize for kinda steamrolling you here.”

Bucky’s shoulders were still shaking with laughter as he waved her inside, stepping aside so she could pass him. He closed the door, flipped the lock, then turned back to her. “Apology accepted, even though it’s not needed. I’ve got dinner covered, but maybe next time.”

Darcy gave him an amused look. “You already know that there’s going to be a second date?”

His nerves rose again, but Darcy’s smile gave him courage. He took a chance. “Yes?”

It was Darcy’s turn to laugh. “I love your confidence.”

“Are you saying I should be worried?”

“Depends on if you poison me with your cooking. What are we having anyway?”

Bucky motioned for her to follow him. “Come and see.” He led her into the kitchen so she could survey his handiwork. Darcy took in the sight then looked at him, her expression blank.

“Is this supposed to answer my question? Because...I can’t cook, so all this stuff you have organized so nicely here just looks like plates of stuff.”

Bucky laughed again. He was pretty sure he’d laughed more in the last few minutes with Darcy than he had in the last few years without her combined. “How do you feel about cacio e pepe?”

Darcy’s eyes grew comically wide. “That’s a thing you can make in a house?”

“Yes,” he laughed.

“You don’t need some sort of fancy machine or something?”

“No.”

“How about witchcraft? Does it involve witchcraft?”

“Depends on your definition of witchcraft, I guess.”

“Probably _this_ once I see it,” Darcy said. “Because I’m not all that sure I believe it yet.”

Bucky smiled. “Well, maybe I can make you a believer.” He showed her around the kitchen and patiently walked her through all the steps to making their dinner. She’d laughed at the large pile of grated cheese and smiled appreciatively as he noted the science behind how the sauce actually worked.

“Talk science to me, baby,” she teased, and Bucky thanked his lucky stars for the day he’d binge watched Alton Brown. 

Dinner prep was going shockingly well. Too well, for Bucky’s luck. Just as they were finishing the last few steps in the recipe, disaster struck. Darcy zigged where Bucky zagged, they didn’t communicate, and Bucky accidentally burned Darcy with a hot pan. He’d practically dropped everything onto the floor at her soft hiss of pain.

“Maybe we should keep all the sharp things away from me too,” Darcy mumbled as they ran cool water over the slight burn on her wrist. “Just in case.”

Bucky gently turned her wrist under the stream of water, closely examining her skin and cursing himself for letting this happen. It had been an accident, but he still felt terrible. She’d told him she didn’t cook. He should have been paying more attention to what he was doing. He kept his eyes down, focusing on her wrist and the water, unable to meet her eyes.

“Bucky,” she murmured. 

He swallowed a sigh and finally looked up at her. She was going to leave and never look back and then he’d be sad and alone _again_ and he’d have way too many leftovers for days.

“I think my wrist is good now,” she said.

“Right. Sorry.” He released the gentle grip he’d had on her wrist and turned off the water, bracing himself for her to make a quick exit. 

She up and tugged at the kitchen towel he’d carelessly tossed over one shoulder. “So what’s next?” she asked as she dried her hands. 

“Next?”

“Yeah, for the pasta. First degree burns really rev up my appetite, apparently. We’re almost done, right?”

“Yeah - yes. Yes.” _Get it together, Barnes_. One would think he’d never been smiled at by a pretty girl before, the way he was reacting. He quickly turned back to their dinner, transfering the drained noodles into the sauce and stirring vigorously. 

“Can I get drinks or something?” Darcy asked. “It looks like you’ve already got the table set.”

“Water is fine for me,” Bucky said, adding in another half cup of cheese to the noodles. “There’s a few other options in the refrigerator, help yourself.”

Darcy poured two glasses of ice water and took them to the table. She returned with the plates he’d set out and held them as Bucky served up generous portions of their pasta. They settled in at the table. A somewhat awkward silence fell between them, the small accident in the kitchen breaking the happy spell they’d been under since Darcy had arrived. 

After a few tense moments of awkwardly looking at each other, Darcy finally looked away and dug into her dinner. After one bite, she froze. 

“Witchcraft!” she hissed. 

Bucky laughed, the tension in his shoulders easing. He settled a little more into his seat and started on his own plate. Their conversation flowed a little easier after that. She told him about her current research, what had brought her to Wakanda in the first place, how she’d ended up a scientist at all. They found that they shared a love of baseball and science fiction and Bucky especially appreciated the way Darcy’s eyes lit up when he asked her for book recommendations.

“You’re going to regret asking,” she warned with a smile. “Your TBR pile is about to grow exponentially.”

“TBR?”

“To be read.”

“Ah. I’m alright with that.”

Darcy pushed her empty plate a few inches forward, then leaned back in her chair. “That was delicious, by the way, thank you.”

“Of course. Anytime.” Provided he had plenty of notice to learn a recipe of course. Cacio e pepe was sort of his only trick. But if Darcy couldn’t cook and this became a regular thing, maybe his repertoire would expand quickly.

“I never even thought about differences in pop culture between your world and this one,” Darcy said. “I guess that makes sense. Everything here revolves around soulmates. It’s kinda gross.”

“So no romance novels in those book recommendations you’ll send me?” That would be a shame, actually. He’d grown rather fond of them, back in the day. He’d choose something like one of those well-loved paperbacks that the Howlies swapped around a campfire over some stuffy tome that took itself too seriously any day.

“Oh no, there will be, don’t you fret,” Darcy promised. “They just won’t be the breathless clichéd ones.” She paused, her eyes drifting towards the ceiling. “Your music selection tonight is pretty good, considering.”

“You have Sam to thank for that.”

“Ah. No familiar artists at all? I find that pretty hard to fathom.”

Bucky shook his head. “No, I’m sure there are. I didn’t think of it until the last minute and the playlists already loaded were...possibly not ideal.”

Darcy’s smile turned a little wistful. “Oh yeah. James’ playlists would probably still be on there, huh?”

Bucky nodded, sorry to have brought the subject up at all. He knew that his wayward counterpart was still a bit of a tender spot for Darcy.

But Darcy just smiled. “You probably could have gotten away with ‘Songs To Commit Crimes To.’ It was his go-to date-night music.” She paused. “Then again, that might have been a little too weird for me, so it’s probably better that you didn’t.”

Bucky tried very hard not to think about how he was competing against his own ghost with Darcy. He asked a different question instead. “I’m sorry, James named his date night playlist ‘Songs To Commit Crimes To?’”

Darcy hesitated, then nodded. “He always said that because I had a soulmate somewhere and he didn’t, dating me felt like he was getting away with something.”

Bucky cursed under his breath and Darcy laughed. 

“That about sums it up, yeah. If he only knew how right he was, huh?” 

“I’m sorry, Darce.”

“Don’t be.” She reached out and squeezed his hand. “How about we get all this into the dishwasher then go walk off our carb coma?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

They made quick work of the cleanup, loading everything into the dishwasher and setting the machine to run before stepping outside into the warm evening air. The sun was just starting to set, turning the world beautiful shades of orange and yellow. Bucky looked at Darcy, about to ask where she wanted to go, just as the waning sunlight caught in her hair and the words died in his throat. She took his breath away.

He was in very big trouble.

She caught him looking and gave him a half knowing, half embarrassed smile. The combination was charming and Bucky fell that much harder. 

So. Much. Trouble.

“So where are we headed, Romeo?” Darcy teased.

“Anywhere you want,” Bucky replied.

Darcy thought for a moment, then reached out her hand and waggled her fingers. After a moment, Bucky caught onto what she wanted and took her hand in his own. She laced her fingers through his and gave his hand a slight squeeze.

“We’ll just see where the wind takes us then.”


	11. Chapter 11

Bucky looked down at Darcy with a soft smile. They were settled under the shade of an old tree, enjoying each other’s company as they escaped from the world for a little while. She was currently lying back, her head in his lap as she read her book. He attempted to return his attention to his own book, the action just starting to pick up in the science fiction novel Darcy had picked out and sent to his tablet. It was no use though. Darcy was far, far more interesting.

He reached out and ran a hand through her hair - his right hand, as he was still slightly terrified of getting the soft strands tangled in the thousand little metal plates of his left and hurting her. A soft, happy hum escaped her, which he took as encouragement to continue. He watched the flicker of emotions cross her face as she continued reading, as she silently mouthed the words of dialog spoken by her favorite character, as she imagined herself in the story she was currently immersed in.

Yes, Darcy was far more interesting than any novel could ever aspire to be.

The intensity of the feeling was just a little bit terrifying, if he were honest. He hadn’t known her long - he hadn’t even been in this _universe_ all that long - but there was a solidity to this feeling. A strange sense of certainty every time he looked at her. They just...fit and it felt a bit like floating.

He knew there was another word for this feeling. One that he’d always shied away from in the past. One that he didn’t want to hide from any longer. Love was right there, just waiting for them to fall into.

But it was far too early for any of that.

“How’s the book?” Darcy asked, her tone dry as paper. Clearly, she’d caught him staring. Again.

“What book?” he shot back with a grin.

Darcy rested her own book on her chest and looked up at him. “We can go,” she said quietly. “This was just an idea, we don’t have to stay.”

Bucky frowned at her tone. There was hurt there, an old wound that maybe she was just discovering hadn’t healed quite right. “If that’s what you want,” he said, matching her volume as he stroked her hair. “I’m fine just where we are.”

“You’re not even reading,” she protested. “If you’re bored-”

“I would tell you,” Bucky promised.

Darcy sat up with a sigh and Bucky reluctantly let her go. She moved over to sit close to him, practically crawling into his lap, but refusing to meet his eyes, her hands a little desperate to bring him close even as her eyes tried to force distance between them.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice practically a whisper.

“For what?”

She shook her head and didn’t reply. Bucky ducked his head a little, trying to catch her gaze. When that didn’t work, he gently cupped her cheek and encouraged her to look at him. 

“Darcy,” he murmured. “I’ve told you a bit about my past, right? You know that things...haven’t always been my choice. So please, _please_ believe me when I promise you that I will tell you if there’s something I don’t want to do. Can you do that? Can you believe me when I say that?”

Darcy nodded, blinking rapidly. One rogue tear escaped and Bucky quickly wiped it away with a brush of his thumb. He wasn’t entirely sure where her uncertainty came from - if this was some unresolved remnant of her relationship with James or if it was something else entirely. But Bucky was determined to help her through it. 

“God, I’m a mess,” she said with a bitter laugh. She pulled out of his grasp and wiped her eyes. “You should just leave me here.”

“Never.”

Darcy’s breath stuttered at his vehemence and she leaned into him. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his cheek against her head. 

“This is so fast,” she whispered, so quietly he almost didn’t hear her.

“We have all the time we need,” he replied. 

Darcy leaned further into his embrace and looked up at him. “Promise?”

He touched his forehead to hers. “I promise.” He lost track of time as they stayed like that, simply sharing space. 

He could tell her that this scared him, too. Hell, it more than scared him - he was _terrified_. Every moment he spent with her, he fell a little further, and everything that had ever happened to him in his entire life told him that it was only a matter of time before it was all ripped away from him. Until he was alone again. 

But what scared him more than any of that, what absolutely shook him to his very soul, was the idea that Darcy might never feel the same. She was clearly affected by all of this and she liked him well enough, sure. But could she ever share this feeling? Did she want to? Or was all of this madness too much? 

Bucky was more than happy to give Darcy all of the time and space she needed to determine that for herself, even if he knew that letting her go might take whatever strength was left in him. But if she decided that she didn’t want this, he would let her go. And it wouldn’t matter what happened to him after that. He stroked her hair again and whispered a prayer to the universe that he would never have to find out.

All he knew for sure was how grateful he was that she trusted him enough to show him this much. There had been a crack in the veneer that she sometimes had to maintain with other people and she felt comfortable enough with him to let him see it. It was a gift, and he was determined to let her know how much he appreciated it.

Finally, she pulled away slightly and smiled, a little sheepishly.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he teased.

“I figured you wanted some of your personal space back.”

“You’re welcome to it for as long as you’d like.”

Darcy considered him, her expression unreadable, then she moved away, resettling herself with her head in his lap once more. “One more chapter, then ice cream?”

He smiled down at her and began playing with her hair once more. “Deal.”

* * *

“Bucky!” 

Bucky squeezed Darcy’s hand, signalling that he was slowing to a stop, then looked back over his shoulder at the sound of his name. “Steve?”

Steve jogged up to them, a smug grin overtaking his face. “Well hello.”

Bucky frowned, confused. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you needed for rebuilding or something somewhere?”

Steve’s grin faltered a little, but he recovered quickly. “Maybe. But what’s the point of always saving the world if I never get a chance to live in it, right? I’m taking some time off.”

“You’ve certainly earned it,” Darcy said.

“Okay,” Bucky said, still confused. “Where’s Sam?”

“We have plans later. I thought I would try to find you.”

“Here I am.” Bucky was a little stunned at the idea. Steve had always been the first to jump at the chance to be useful. No matter how many times Bucky had implored him otherwise, nothing he’d ever said had been able to persuade Steve for long. The thought that the world was recovering from a major crisis and Steve wasn’t on the front lines was unfathomable.

Steve’s smile dimmed a little at Bucky’s comment. Darcy jabbed him sharply in the ribs. Along with the pain came a sudden clarity. 

Maybe it was _because_ of what had happened over the last few years that Steve was finally making himself a priority. It was easier for Bucky - he’d only been dropped into a different universe. Steve and Darcy had to survive the decimation and then live with the fallout for years. It only made sense that people would reevaluate their priorities after something like that.

Or maybe this Steve was just as different from any other Steve and Bucky was only making an ass of himself.

“We’re going for ice cream,” Bucky said. Darcy squeezed his hand encouragingly. “You should join us.”

Steve looked from Bucky to Darcy and back. “I wouldn’t want to -”

“Yeah, you would, ya creeper,” Darcy teased. “Come on. You two can fight over who gets to buy me some Hulk-A-Hulk-A-Burning Fudge.” She reached forward and looped her arm through Steve’s, then leaned her head on Bucky’s shoulder, lacing their fingers together.

“I’m up to spend Steve’s money,” Bucky agreed.

“Oh that’s how it is?” Steve asked.

“That’s how it is,” Bucky replied with a grin, relieved that the awkward moment had passed.. Steve returned the smile and Bucky hoped that the Steve he’d known in his old universe could someday find the peace that this Steve was on the precipice of.

They continued walking towards the ice cream shop, where they quickly placed their orders and made Steve pay. Darcy went to wash her hands while Bucky and Steve waited for their order.

“You look stupid when you’re in love, you know,” Steve said.

“I suppose it’s an improvement,” Bucky agreed. “I’m pretty sure you used to think I looked stupid all the time.”

Steve laughed. “So you’re not denying it?”

“I see no point in fighting it,” Bucky replied. He looked towards the hallway where Darcy had disappeared. “I just hope...one day…”

“I have a feeling that day will be sooner rather than later,” Steve reassured.

“Well, you have known her longer,” Bucky said, feigning indifference. “I’ll trust your judgement on that.”

Steve hesitated. “I knew her with James,” he replied. “It’s different. She’s different with you.”

Bucky sighed. “I just want her to be happy.”

“What about you?”

He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. “What about me?” 

Steve hesitated again, and Bucky was suddenly reminded of how Steve had been so tentative when he’d first arrived in this universe. How Steve had walked on eggshells, as though every conversation was a minefield to navigate. Bucky tried for a smile, to soften his question and take a little bit of the sting out of it. Steve’s relief was palpable and Bucky really had to marvel at the absolute number James had done on the people around him. 

“Are you happy?” Steve asked. The “here” was unspoken, but hung heavy in the air between them. 

Bucky considered the question. Not long ago, in an entirely different life, he might have dismissed the question. What would he have had to be happy about? He had been alive, he had survived. But for what? So if anyone had bothered to ask, he probably would have replied with a flippant “sure” and changed the subject. But now? Was he happy? Was he happy _here_?

“I could be,” he replied. “I really think I could be happy here.”

“I’m glad, Buck.” 

Bucky smiled and decided to lighten the mood. “I mean, I’d be happier if you and Wilson got on it and just made me an uncle already, so…”

Steve burst out laughing. “I’ll pass that along.”

“Pass what along?” Darcy asked, ducking under Bucky’s outstretched arm and tucking herself into his side. Just like she belonged there. 

Bucky grinned down at her, fully aware that she’d been hanging back and letting him have his conversation with Steve. He adored her for it. 

“Ah just some feedback for Wilson. I’ve got _notes_.”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “Keep your secrets then.”

“Only on the unimportant stuff,” he promised as he nuzzled her hair.

If Steve’s smile grew any bigger, he was going to pop and Bucky was sure he was in for a lifetime’s worth of teasing. He just couldn’t quite bring himself to care.

Darcy’s phone beeped and she dug it out of her pocket. “It is my day off, so unless the universe is coming to yet another end -” She stopped suddenly and listened intently to whatever was being said while her grip on Bucky got infinitesimally tighter. He rubbed reassuring circles into the small of her back. He was here and had no intentions of being anywhere else until she sent him away.

“We’ll be right in,” she said, then ended the call. She stared down at her phone for a moment, then tucked it away in her pocket again. She looked up at Steve, purposely avoiding Bucky’s gaze.

“Calculations are complete and our readings confirm it,” she said. “We’ve found Bucky’s original universe.”


End file.
